


Virtually Yours

by TheCrypticPaladin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Absent Parents, Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe, And have virtual sex, Angst, Bottom Keith (Voltron), But only a few people know that, But unintentionally, Car Accidents, Comfort, Drama, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gaming, High School, Insomnia, Keith and Lance send each other nudes, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Lance is a Bully, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mostly just my trash writing, Pizza Man Lance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre Season 5, Romance, Secrets, Sentient Voltron Lions, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Space Mom Allura (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Therapist!Coran, They have phone sex, Top Lance (Voltron), Violence, Virtual Reality, established relationships - Freeform, girl!Pidge, hope you enjoy!, if that's a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 86,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrypticPaladin/pseuds/TheCrypticPaladin
Summary: After their mother died in a car accident, Shiro and Keith were separated. Years later, the two reunite, with Shiro taking on the role of legal guardian whilst Keith still battles with his insomnia.But being the brother of the guy who created the virtual reality; 'Voltron: Legendary Defenders' has it's perks. For one, his character is one of the most experienced in the game. For another, he found that his online friends were less stressful than the ones at his high school. And for a third, Keith's relationship with his virtual team is booming. Particularly with a guy who goes by the name 'Sharp-Shooter.'Or the one where Keith and Lance are best-friends and virtual lovers online. But Keith doesn't know his high-school tormentor is also the person who he calls at three in the morning. And Lance doesn't know that 'Red_Blade' is the guy he's been teasing for the past three-years.





	1. With a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
> This is my first piece I've posted on here and it's been a long time since I've written anything (and even longer for posting!)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Also the usernames are as follows:  
> Keith: Red_Blade  
> Lance: Sharp-Shooter  
> Pidge: K-Bird  
> Hunk: Master-Chef  
> Shiro: Attackashi  
> Allura: Princess_Altea  
> Corran: Gorgeous_Man  
> Matt: Change_Your_Name_Attackashi

Keith pulled hard against his restraints, feeling the harsh edge of the material pressing against his throat.  
  
“NO!”  
  
Smaller hands thrashed, legs kicked, thudding against the cushioned seat. The smell of cigarette smoke and whisky clung to her like glue.  
“I don’t wanna!” Larger hands, rough to the touch and stained yellow gripped hard, fingers easily wrapping around his wrists, causing them to ache. Another cascade of tears,  
wails and inaudible shouts filled the near-empty parking lot. No one ever questioned a temper tantrum.  
  
“Sit STILL.” Cries turned into gasps as he struggled to breathe through his blocked nose.  
  
“He doesn’t like being in the front, mom.” Shiro’s voice, though loud and clear, barely broke through the cries of his younger brother.  
  
“T-Tough shit. M’not gonna let him push me ‘round.” Finally managing to pull the seat belt over the eight-year-old, she stood up gripping the car for support. “I’M the parent. I’m the one that’s in control here, not him!”  
  
“I’m going to be SICK!” That did it. Any notion of control was out the window as she spun round and undid the seat belt, tugging on the younger boys arm hard enough to propel him from the passenger seat to where Shiro stood a couple meters away.  
  
“For fuck’s sake! Just sit in the back then!” Their mother clumsily staggered to the driver’s side, fumbling with the lock.

Shiro crouched and pulled his sobbing brother up from the ground, examining his grazed palms.  
  
“I’ll sit in the front… There isn’t room for both of us in the back.” Even at twelve, Shiro’s voice was the sound of reason to Keith. The perfect balance between being firm and fair.  
  
“Momma’s drunk, Takashi…” He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, causing the older boy to cringe slightly.  
  
“Yeah, yeah she is.”  
  
“Can we call dad?”  
  
“He won’t come… It’s a five-minute drive, we’ll be fine. And…” Shiro’s worried look suddenly turned into a grin. “Your fit gave us enough time to beat the rush-hour traffic! Good job, Keith.”  
Although still sniffling, Keith stood up straight with pride, his grin matching his brother’s. He could always rely on him to find the good in the bad.

Although the back seat was cramped, with the Christmas tree taking up half the space, Keith instantly felt better and the prospect of decorating the large pine improved his mood greatly. Even in its netting it was huge, and he couldn’t wait to see it stood in the living room, branches out-stretched and sparking with lights and ornaments. Even through the over-powering stench of tobacco, the sweet scent of pine-needles and fresh soil filled Keith with a warm feeling, allowing him to begin to drift off, listening to the hum of the evening radio and the engine of their crappy old car.

Keith savoured warm moments like this, because they always came to a screeching halt. Often with screaming, and almost always with a bang.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith bolted upright in bed, the smell of burning rubber and the sound of sirens turning back into a familiar dull throb behind his eyes. He kept them closed for a while before blinking several times, taking in the familiar surroundings of his room. The tartan bedsheets were strewn across his small double bed, the pillows damp but still in their place. Cushions lined the place where his bed met the wall, allowing him to curl up into the corners comfortably in the evenings without becoming cold. Wooden floors with dark purple rugs were surprisingly tidier than most seventeen-year-olds, except for the odd sock, book or DVD scattered around and his desk held his laptop. Above it his TV still played some kind of late night talk show that he’d kept on quietly to fill the silence of the apartment. The curtains were parted just enough for Keith to see that it was dark out, but the Eastern border had begun to turn a dark blue, indicating he was only a couple hours from when he would really need to get up. Glancing at the alarm-clock, the glowing red digits showed that it had just gone four-thirty in the morning. The sinking, nauseous feeling at the pit of his stomach was enough to tell him that he wasn’t going to get much more sleep, and he reached out to open the window, letting the cool autumn air wash over him, fill his lungs and chill the room. Shiro would no doubt lecture him about it later, but for now he took a small bit of pleasure in the fact that today was jacket weather.

It took a while for him to get into the shower. As much as he hated the sticky feeling of sweat making his loose t-shirt cling to him like a second skin, he’d prefer to come back to a tidy room, with his clothes laid out ready on his now tidy-looking bed. Today was definitely a day where he’d wear his favourite red and white jacket, a dark grey t-shirt underneath and black jeans held up by a belt. He’d always been slim for his age, but Shiro’s constant need for company at the gym hadn’t exactly made him skinny. His six-pack wasn’t visible through his t-shirt, but it was there, and he was stronger than he looked, but no matter what, Shiro easily dwarfed him. It had always been that way and Keith mused at how much the two had changed over the years. When Shiro was twelve, he’d been tall and one look would tell you that he was athletic and would one day fill his broad shoulders. Having more responsibilities than the average preteen, ones that extended further than walking with his younger brother to school and doing the dishes, he’d seemed mature for his age. Keith could scarcely remember a time when Shiro was just a child, rather than a mini-adult. Maybe that’s why he was so eager for Keith to ‘enjoy his youth’ and make more friends.

The six-year gap in which the two brothers had been separated- one going with their father to Japan and the other moving in with a neighbour before being placed into foster care – had changed them both. In fact, the day Keith’s old head-teacher had pulled him out of class and taken him to his office, he scarcely recognised the eighteen-year-old. Sat next to his social worker, Shiro seemed to dominate the room with an authoritative force, demanding nothing but respect from the two other adults in the room. Even Keith, at his most edgy time of his life, said nothing and waited to be introduced. Shiro had donned a suit, smart black shoes and his hair, which had once been all black but always shorter than Keith’s, now had a slight undercut, jet black at the top except for a large white tuft where his fringe would have been. From his physique Keith could only assume that the man at the desk had been a police officer or maybe a military official. But something in the warm smile and comforting eyes had clicked everything back into place.

It was at times like this that Keith had to remember the quiet calm that usually accompanied Shiro, as his brother’s loud snores reverberated off of the walls from his bedroom down the hall. At least Keith didn’t have to worry about waking him as he walked down the hall to the large, pristine bathroom. The bath was large enough for two, with a jacuzzi setting that Keith would never admit to using and a large mirror lined one of the walls, the black marble counter top holding the sink and an assortment of hair products and soaps. All of these he ignored as he made his way to the shower, turning the temperature further away from Shiro’s preferred setting that seemed magma hot to Keith’s preferred luke-warmth. Instantly, he felt some of the anxiety that had come from his recurring nightmare fade, as the water soaked his mullet and ran down his body, washing away the sweat and the grime as it did so. Keith sighed, letting go of the night before as he tried to picture the day ahead.

  
“Something smells good.”  
Keith glanced over his shoulder at Shiro as he slid three fried eggs onto the two plates in front of him.  
  
“Coffee’s on the table.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
He served up a few sausages, some bacon, beans, toast and hash browns before making his way to the table, leaving the pots behind to soak as the two brothers tucked in to a hearty breakfast. Shiro let out an appreciative moan.  
“I needed this today.” He said into his coffee mug. “Matt and I are driving down to Javeeno to discuss the new expansion for Voltron with the graphics team.”  
That perked Keith’s interest. As if having a brother that was willing to become a legal guardian at eighteen wasn’t great enough, he also created and co-owned the internationally renowned online virtual reality game ‘Voltron; Legendary Defenders.’ Which also meant that Keith got to play the game and its expansions before they were officially released. The practice is what made him so good; a well-known high-ranking player at level 97. This was equally surprising as ‘Red_Blade’ usually went on solo missions.  
  
“So you and Pidge need to get ready to trial run the new villain.”  
  
Keith raised his VLD mug and smirked before clinking it against Shiro’s. A silent challenge, but one that the older brother read loud and clear. ‘Fight me.’

A comfortable silence passed between the two while they finished their breakfast, both plates empty of food and both mugs refilled as Keith made a move to take Shiro’s plate into the kitchen.  
  
“So… You’re still not sleeping?” An innocent question, one asked out of concern, but still it made Keith shiver slightly. Only his brother and his best friend, Pidge, had the ability to read Keith like an open book, and honestly, he was grateful for it most of the time. He’d never been one to open up when something was wrong so having the two of them seemingly know what’s going through his mind without him having instigate a conversation was helpful. But sometimes it also left Keith feeling vulnerable, like everyone was watching him, knowing what he was thinking, and it felt almost invasive. He didn’t have the energy to get too defensive about it.  
  
“Not really.” He admitted, not looking his brother in the eyes as he cleared the table and moved into the kitchen. Shiro followed at a distance. He knew from experience that the more he pushed Keith, the more the seventeen-year-old would pull away.  
  
“You should speak to the school councillor, you know.” He said, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter. “Before this gets out of hand.”  
  
“Yeah, well it won’t get out of hand.” Keith replied, dropping the plates in the soapy water and attacking them with the sponge. “I’m fine, Shiro.”  
There wasn’t really any need for him to do the dishes. Shiro had more than enough money to hire a cleaner who came to the apartment almost every day and would leave after half-an-hour due to the apartment never really being dirty. The same couldn’t be said for when they first moved in. The living room and kitchen were in a constant post-apocalyptic state, with pizza boxes, games and clothes strewn across the floor and furniture. But as Keith’s insomnia got worse, he found himself needing to fill the time. Cleaning kept his mind busy and the maid happy. Shiro had also become tidier as he got older, but he wouldn’t do it as religiously as his brother did.  
Keith felt the chill of a metallic hand placed gently on his shoulder and it made him shiver. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the fingers glinting in the light and he felt a sudden pang in his chest. The lack of an arm didn’t frighten like it did when he and Shiro were first discharged from hospital, but it still served as a memory of that day.  
  
“I called the school on Friday, Keith. You have an appointment this afternoon.”  
He froze, as if someone had pressed a gun against his head and told him not to scream. Spinning round, he scanned Shiro’s face for any signs of a joke, but he just stood there, looking as matter-of-fact as ever and ready for whatever verbal onslaught he was about to receive.

“What the fuck, Shiro?!” Keith spat, forgetting about the dishes and gripping the edge of the counter as hard as he could. “I don’t need to speak to a councillor! I’m. FINE.”  
  
“You’re clearly not fine. First you’d wake up screaming but now you won’t sleep at all.” Shiro ran his own hand through his hair, sighing. “I thought maybe it’d sort itself out and you’d be fine once you’d settled in, but it’s been a year, Keith. You sleep like, what, two or three hours? Four if it’s a good night?”  
Keith gritted his teeth.  
“I’m sorry. But you’re going to that appointment.”

  
If there was anything Keith really looked forward to about school it was the bike ride. Twenty minutes from his home to Altea High School was all it took when he went at a decent speed. The journey was made longer by the ten-minute detour to pick up Pidge, who wordlessly through her bags into the paniers at the back of his bicycle before climbing up to sit on the handlebars. Sure, this made it a little harder to see and steer usually. But Pidge was short enough that Keith could just about see over the top of her head and although she was heavier than she looked, he had no problem turning corners.  
Pidge popped a piece of bubble gum and adjusted her glasses.  
  
“Matt says we can test the new expansion in a couple weeks. Do you wanna make a marathon of it? You, me, both our computers and a take away?”  
  
“Sounds good. Aren’t you cold with just a jumper?”  
  
Pidge snorted loudly. “Coming from the man with the bottom half of his jacket missing!”  
Keith couldn’t help but smile a little, but it was short-lived as he thought about the appointment at lunch time.  
  
“I’ll drop you off, but I’ve gotta go somewhere.” At that, Pidge reached next to her and squeezed the break, causing the bike to halt awkwardly and Keith felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg as he slammed his foot on the ground. Pidge hopped off before the bike could topple onto its side and turned to face her friend with searching look.  
  
“Okay, spit it out.”  
  
“What the hell was that for?!”  
  
“You’re avoiding something, and I want to know what! It’s not like you to skip class.” Any look of exasperation vanished as she became concerned. “Talk to me, Keith.”  
Pidge had always been more aggressive than Shiro when it came to getting Keith to open up. It was like trying to get blood from a stone. For a brief moment, he considered getting back on his bike and going home. Shiro would be at work by now and wouldn’t be home until much later. But no doubt the school would notify him of his absence. And that was probably worse than talking to Mr Smythe.  
  
“Alright, alright. Shiro’s making me talk to Mr Smythe. He seems to think it’ll help me sleep.”  
  
Pidge seemed to ponder this for a moment, and during that time she had decided who’s side she was going to take.  
  
“It might, you know. By all accounts he’s pretty good at giving advice if you avoid any historical topics.”  
  
“He’ll want to talk about what happened.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about what happened.”  
Pidge pursed her lips. “We’ve all got to do things we don’t want to do, Keith. Just try it.”

Keith didn’t have many friends. In fact, he’s pretty sure if it wasn’t for Pidge, he’d never have stuck with the group the two hung out with.  
Hunk was a close friend of Pidge’s, and when she’d first introduced them, the two didn’t exactly hit it off. But over the last couple years, the joke-y, easy going nature that Keith had once found insensitive had become a great source of amusement. As well as Pidge, the Samoan had become his go-to study-buddy when it came to exams and coursework, with Keith providing the space, Pidge bringing a shit-tonne of books and Hunk bringing study snacks, the three had formed a fun, yet efficient relationship.  
And then there was Lance.  
If ever Keith was asked to find someone who was the polar opposite of himself, Lance would be picked ten times over. Whilst Keith was introverted, Lance was extraverted. Keith preferred darker colours (except for maybe the red jacket), Lance preferred to stand out. Keith had few friends, Lance seemingly got along with everyone. And most of all; Keith wanted nothing more than for the Cuban to ignore him, but Lance seemed to get some perverse kind of pleasure out of getting Keith riled up.  
  
  
  
  
“Hey, Mullet!” A heavy hand landed on the back of Keith’s head. If the shout hadn’t forewarned him of the other’s presence, then he probably would have stumbled. Instead he only winced slightly before Lance turned to look at him, with the same smirk that played on his lips every god forsaken day.  
Out of the corner of his eyes he caught Pidge give him a discouraging look. Having seen it a hundred times before, he knew immediately what she meant. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’  
As fond as she was of the taller man, she knew he liked to press Keith’s buttons.  
  
“What do you want, Lance?” Keith kept his eyes on his phone, absentmindedly checking for messages that he knew weren’t there.  
  
“Woah, can’t I just say 'hi' to my buddy-bud-bud?”  
  
“This is you we’re talking about, right? ‘Course not. We don’t have class until last period, so what do you want?”

“Nothing!” Lance protested in mock offence. Keith’s shoulders relaxed a little. “But now that you mention it-“  
  
“What.”  
  
“Remember that homework we had for today? The online exam paper?”  
Keith felt exasperation well up inside, making its way into his voice as he side-eyed Lance. “Yeah?”  
  
“Well I didn’t!”  
  
“No-“  
  
“Aw, come on, MCR, you’ve gotta help me out here!”  
Keith sighed, stopping in his tracks by his locker.  
  
“If I let you copy my answers, will you leave me the hell alone?”  
Lance nodded, pouting and doing his best to give Keith a puppy dog look. Keith sighed, pulling his paper out of his shoulder bag and handing it to the brunette, who grabbed and grinned.  
  
“Just put your name on it and give it to me after lunch.”  
  
Lance’s hand rested on the locker, just Keith’s head and leaned in close, his lips so close to Keith’s ear that he felt the warmth of the other’s breath run down his neck. He felt his face go hot and for a moment he couldn’t think. The world around him turned into an unimportant buzz in the background as Lance parted his lips.  
  
“Oh, I’ll give it to you, Keith.” He suddenly felt like his legs had turned to jelly. “But not in the way that you want.” Lance suddenly backed away, looking triumphant.  
He could feel the taller man’s grin as he stalked away and reality came crashing back down. He slammed his locker door shut and shoved passed Lance, who stood cackling to himself. He felt like a million eyes were watching his flustered face.  
“I thought I told you I don’t swing that way, mullet-head!” Lance shouted after him, causing many of the teenagers in the crowded hallway to turn and stare, some giggling and whispering to one another.  
  
Lance McClain.  
  
Fuck that guy.

 

It wasn’t Keith’s first time in the councillor’s office, but he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been in.  
The first time had been when he first moved in with Shiro, who’d accompanied him on his tour around the school a couple days before he was due to formally start. Coran Smythe had bustled into the room, already launching into an anecdote about how frightening his first day had been and how terrible it had gone. Safe to say it did nothing to settle his nerves. Shiro had seemed to catch onto his mood and had quickly changed the topic to any extra support his brother may have needed to help him get through high school. To Keith’s dismay, Shiro had asked Coran to book in a few sessions with Keith to help him get past the night terrors and deal with any emotional baggage he may have gained from being bounced around from one foster home to another over the six years prior.  
  
The second time had been a couple days later. He’d barely been there an hour, and honestly, he wanted nothing more than just to settle into his classes as best he could and meet up with Pidge during their breaks. But Coran had waltzed into the room, loudly exclaiming that he wanted to have a quick word, which soon became an hour-long discussion. The desk had held a large open file, one that Keith had seen a million times before. The one that documented all his previous homes, schools, the contact number for his social worker and any issues he may have had. And from the look of it, it had been well-read and rehearsed. The hour was spent by avoiding answering difficult personal questions (Keith) and pressing for more insight into the ‘troubled’ mind (Coran). By the time Mr Smythe had given up, he’d decided Keith needed a ‘fresher face’ to talk to.  
And that’s how he met Lance. Even at fourteen, Lance was tall for his age and was starting to pack a small bit of muscle. Tanned skin and dark curly hair with an undercut was tied together nicely with his easy-going smile and dark blue eyes. Keith took to him straight away, and the next few weeks were spent with Keith tailing behind Lance, who introduced him to most of the year group, but mostly got him in with Hunk. He’d already known Pidge for a few months, during the time he was settling in to his new home and she’d accompany her brother whenever Matt went to visit Shiro. But with Lance it was different. He’d had crushes before, but they were buried way down, underneath his fear of rejection and lack of opportunity. Lance made him confident. Both were competitive and hot-headed, which made their conversations more heated and exciting. And somehow, among all the light flirting from Lance and the jokes, Keith thought maybe there was a chance that the Cuban liked him back.  
  
The third and last time, Keith had actually gone in voluntarily, having skipped the last three weeks’ worth of counselling sessions. He’d been to enough sessions with social workers, care workers and the occasional police official to know that he was nothing more than interesting case study and a way to pay the bills. But by then he’d been desperate. He hadn’t told Pidge about what had happened at the party, but she knew about Keith’s feelings for her friend, and she probably suspected something had gone awry along the way. Shiro was a no-go. Not that he would’ve minded Keith being gay, but he would’ve wanted to know everything about Lance and the younger brother didn’t put it passed Shiro to confront Lance about what he had done if Keith had given him the chance. Hunk was instantly ruled out, partly because he hadn’t known the guy as long as he’d known Pidge, and partly because he was Lance’s best friend. So that left Coran, who’s eyes lit up when Keith had walked into the room.  
That same glimmer of excitement was there when Keith dropped his bag on the ground and sat down heavily in the chair. The waiting room to Mr Smythe’s office and the office itself hadn’t changed much since Keith last visited. The same old over-stuffed chairs, the same old desk and motivational posters on the wall and the same old councillor with his ginger hair tied back and his moustache finely trimmed and combed. The whole room made Keith feel nauseous.  
  
“Mr Kogane! Shiro told me you’d be dropping in.” Keith said nothing as the older man sat on the chair opposite him. Ever since he discovered Shiro was the co-owner of the ‘Voltron’ game, he’d decided he knew enough to be on first name basis with him, often stopping Keith in the hallway and asking if there have been any developments in the game’s open world map. Every few months, a new expansion adds a new planet to explore or more bosses to fight. Luckily Mr Smythe stopped approaching him when Pidge’s brother, Matt, had told him that both Pidge and Keith didn’t want anyone to know their connections to the game. It would only lead to trouble.  
  
“You should have told me you were still having trouble sleeping! Not that it seems to be effecting your grades.” Coran glanced at the sheet on his clipboard. “Or your attendance! Ninety-nine per cent attendance so far in the time you have been here, and you have an A* average!”  
  
“I don’t go out much.”  
  
“And I bet you have more time on your hands. What with having five more hours in your day with your peculiar sleeping hours.” Coran brushed his moustache in attempt to hide his yawn. “Sorry, as soon as I read anything about sleep, I begin to doze off! Just the other day I-“  
  
“Mr Smythe, what do you recommend to help me sleep?” Keith blurted out. Although if Coran called him every night before bed, that’d probably kick his insomnia into kleptomania.  
Coran smiled and handed him a pamphlet, reading ‘So You’ve Tried Counting Sheep’.  
  
“I suspect you’ve read something like this already. The main highlights are things like cutting down on caffeine, do regular exercise, keep your brain active, et cetera, et cetera. But for you I’d say that the cause of your sleep troubles is more psychological and emotional than physical.”  
‘Here we go.’ Keith barely manages to supress a sigh.  
  
“I believe if we have a few more sessions and uncover the cause of all this distress, things will get better. We won’t leave any stone unturned and we’ll tackle all your demons together-“  
  
Keith grabbed his bag. “Look… I’m grateful for what your doing and I get what you’re saying. But I’ll work through it in my own time and in my own way.”  
As he got up to leave, he felt his jacket being tugged back.  
  
“Wait, Keith.” Keith turned to look at the older man with a hint of exasperation. Expecting to be handed the pamphlet, he was surprised when Coran handed him a small card, with his name and number on. “That’s my mobile number. I don’t normally give it out to students… But if you need to talk, you know you can call me any time.”  
  
Somewhere deep down, Keith was touched. Most shrinks he’d been to could hardly wait for him to leave the room and kept a keen eye on the clock. Coran wasn’t bad at his job. Far from it. For one, he actually cared about the students. But Keith somehow doubted that Coran could help him. There was too much shit to sort through, and he’d rather look forward than look back.

 


	2. Sharp-Shooter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!
> 
> So, I ended up finishing this chapter a lot sooner than expected, but I'm sorry if it seems a little rushed!
> 
> Thank you for the lovely comments and I hope to have Chapter 3 up in the next week!

Keith had thought he’d heard Hunk call out his name when he stormed out of the classroom, and the sound of it made him spare a thought for Pidge and how she’d get home. But he was too angry to do more than dismiss the thought of hanging around much longer, his frustration getting the better of him as he brushed passed a teacher’s aid, who’d tried to stop him in the hall. Again, the guilt was there as he caught a glimpse of her stunned face, having expected him to stop, turn around and go back to the classroom he’d just escaped from. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. He kept walking, as fast as he could without breaking into a full on sprint. The sudden coolness of the afternoon air did little to calm him down, but a lungful had at least taken the edge off of the headache forming behind his eyes and under his temples. He already felt the stiffness of his neck and shoulders under the weight of his school bag. Yep. It was going to be one of these evenings.

Not for the first time, Keith thanked all the deities or whoever else was running this gaff that he’d locked his bike near the entrance, giving him enough distance so that when the bell went off he had plenty of space before he could be swamped by teenagers who were in less of hurry to leave than he was. And he was in no mood for anyone to stop him.  
The hard pedalling had Keith sweating buckets, his dark mullet sticking to his forehead and to the back of his neck as the burning in his calves and thighs screamed at him to stop, or at least slow down. But for once Keith ignored the pain, pushing the worry of having sore muscles out of his mind as he bolted around the corner. He muttered an apology, that would’ve gone unheard even if he’d have yelled it as he nearly knocked over a tall blonde with a dark undercut who was accompanying a smaller, messier looking black-haired man in crutches across the busy road. A driver gave him a cursory glance as he cut him off. Another unheard apology. The sound of his wheels whirring as he sped through the streets blocked out little of the noise in his head, the same familiar stress headache that had been burrowing into his skull since that morning.  
If Keith had a logical side to him, it wasn’t in control right now. If it was, it would’ve told him that Lance probably just made a bonehead move and hadn’t meant to get Keith into trouble. But at that moment he was irrational, adrenaline and fury driving him forward. He was already half-way home, despite only setting off a couple minutes before.  
This was Lance he was talking about. Of course, he’d meant to humiliate Keith. Since when had he not?  
The sweat had begun trickling its way down his back. He wanted to stop for water, but the distance was too short now and he decided that he could wait until he got home.

Keith dismounted his bike and entered the seven-digit code to get into his building, face red and his clothes stuck to his skin. But the familiarity of the hallway and the lift helped him relax. Pushing the bike into the elevator he hit the button to top floor and took several deep breaths, focussing on the twitching in his legs as his aching muscles went into spasm from the brutal trip home. It felt like someone was jabbing his thighs and calves with an engraving pen. But Keith still had the energy to hobble through the doors and unlock his way into the apartment, putting his bike in the cupboard by the front door. Shrugging off his sweat-drenched jacket, he opened the balcony door, letting the cool air wash out the stale air of the living room.  
It was good to be home.

It was at the moment, as Keith was noting the pleasing silence of the apartment that he heard shuffling coming from towards the hallway and he frowned. Shiro had either cancelled the meeting or he was running late, but he couldn’t say he was disappointed. Even after their disagreement that morning, it was not like he could stay mad at his older brother, and wearily he moved towards the bedroom, that seemed to double as Shiro’s work out space when he couldn’t be bothered to go down to the gym. As he got closer he could hear his heavy breathing and the thumping of heavy steps. 

“Hah… Hah!”

Definitely the treadmill then.

Keith turned the door knob and stepped inside. Neither of the brothers had never felt the need to knock, and soon that mistake would be rectified.

“Shiro, I-“

For a split second, everything went into slow-motion as he took in the scene. The treadmill stood unused in the corner and Shiro’s usually pristine room was in definite disarray, with clothes strewn across the floor; trousers, boxers, a shirt and a dress. Keith’s eyes widened, his eyes snapping up to the creaking sound coming from the unmade bed and his mouth formed an ‘O’. Shiro was in bed, lying on his back, face red, eyes widening in horror as he made a grab for the sheets, which were too far out of reach for him to make quick work of covering himself up.  
At that same moment, the other figure stopped moving from where she straddled Shiro’s hips, meeting his distress with concern. Before she could speak, she followed his gaze and her blue eyes quickly became equally wide and her face reddened slightly but not as much as the man underneath her. Long, alabaster hair had long since fallen out of its messy bun and covered most of her back. But still, she hastilly folded her arms across her chest, clamping her mouth shut and staring horrified at younger boy.

“Keith, get out!” Shiro’s voice broke the silence like a machete to ice and Keith stammered before grasping for the door handle.

“W-What the fuck?!” He managed to croak as he slammed the door shut behind him. For a second he stood dumbfounded, the image of what he’d just seen burning into his corneas, before he made a bee-line for his bedroom and flinging himself onto his bed, burying his burning face into his pillow and trying to drown out his embarrassment.

It felt like hours before Keith had the strength to move again, but only twenty minutes had passed since he’d renounced every deity and decided that day drinking was going be a hobby in his near future. He wasn’t sure how he’d face Shiro or Allura again, but he felt his ears grow hot and his stomach convulse every time his mind took him back to that life-altering moment. It at least added to his growing suspicion that some paranormal force, probably the demonic spirit of his mother, was trying to push him closer and closer to alcoholism and an early death, and for a brief moment, Keith wondered if exorcists had clearance to perform lobotomy’s.  
His phone was still in his jacket pocket in the living room and going to get it would mean encountering Shiro and Allura. He’d heard them shuffle quietly out of the room earlier. So instead he all but crawled to his desk, firing up his laptop and logging into Facebook.

His frustration mounted when he saw the array of messages; A dozen from Hunk, not including the five missed video calls and one message from Pidge. Of course, Lance hadn’t bothered at all. Weighing up the options, he hit the video call icon above his chat with Pidge and waited. Just as he thought Pidge was going to ignore his call, her face filled the screen. For an alarming moment, he’d noted her damp cheeks and red face and nose and thought she’d been crying. But the resounding thunderclap that could be heard through the speakers and from outside told him that she’d been caught in the rain.  
God, he felt like an asshole.

“Thanks, A-hole.” She said, re-adjusting her umbrella as to keep the pouring rain from her phone. 

“Pidge, I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“

“It’s fine,” She cut him off abruptly. “But you owe me like eleven taco bells and can’t bitch about giving me a lift to school anymore.”

“It’s a deal…” He couldn’t help but smile slightly, even as she pulled her hood up tighter.

“So, are we going to talk about what happened or are you just going to sit their brooding? By the way, I’ve never been a fan of pathetic fallacy.” Keith blinked, and thought back to his English Literature classes for the meaning of the phrase and then smiled.

“Yeah… Sorry about that.” He leaned back in his desk chair and sighed. “Did he say anything after I left?”

“Only that you were overreacting.” Pidge gave a nonchalant shrug and Keith snorted, feeling the tension build back up inside him.

Lance had chosen to spend the lunch time that he was supposed to be taking notes from Keith’s practice exam paper to go flirt with some girls in the year above. Neither of the two brunettes were interested, but the Cuban was like a dog with a stick. He wouldn’t let it go and he didn’t know when to stop. At any rate, the two apparently found him amusing, even if his flirting wasn’t going to lead anywhere, and that was enough for Lance waste his time and of course, Keith got the blame when it came last period and he had nothing to hand in.

Lance had panicked, and Keith had done his work in pencil so he could rub out the mistakes later. Not that there ever was many. He’d never make that mistake again, since Lance took his words a little too literally.

‘Just put your name on it.’

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Keith had been a little apprehensive when Lance hadn’t sat with them at lunch and Hunk’s suggestion that Lance had gone to the library to copy down the paper had made him laugh a little on the inside. Lance did work hard, usually, but going to the library wasn’t his style. If he was going to do his work, he’d either do it in class or have an all-nighter and complete the assignment at home. But that still didn’t mean that he’d never ‘forget’ to do his homework. Even when they first met, Keith knew that the taller boy was easy to distract.

There was a time when Lance’s charm could be used to get him off the hook, particularly with the elderly teachers. He was one of these people that you could just look at and know that they came from a large, close-knit family with lots of brothers and sisters. That was certainly the impression that radiated him off him the day he’d first met Keith. Lance oozed the whole ‘Hey, buddy, I’m going to be you school-big brother and mentor!’ vibe, but somehow the brotherly bond never formed between the two of them. Keith could see the irony that Lance would develop sibling-like relationships with most of the people he’d initially try to pursue for a romantic relationship, but his attempt at befriending Keith and having him be his new bro had only led to the mullet’s crush on the guy. The feelings weren’t mutual.

So, Keith could easily become frustrated whenever the Cuban was involved, and today that only amplified his anger when Lance didn’t copy the answers, but instead rubbed out Keith’s name and written his own. When Lance avoided him in the classroom and the teacher berated him for trying to text the other in class, he should have guessed he was never seeing that paper again. But it hadn’t hit him until he saw Lance hand the paper in and Keith was left with the strictest teacher in school luring over him, asking for his paper and not believing his excuses. To make matters worse, Lance’s excuses were no better.

“Come on, Keith, I had to talk to her! I’d have done the same for you, y’know, if you weren’t bent.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Do you think I over reacted?” Keith asked, although he was more than ready to defend himself.

“No, but I think my reasons for being angry would be different from yours.” She gave him a pointed look. Pidge may not be best at human interaction, but she was always straightforward with Keith. He nodded, but didn’t want to take the conversation any further. She was the only person, apart from Hunk, who was willing to talk about his sexuality.

“Uh… Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re looking kind of red,”  
At that he felt his face grow even hotter as his mind was refilled with images from half an hour earlier. He pressed his mouth into a hard line for a few seconds before speaking.

“I just walked in on my brother and his girlfriend having sex.”  
For a moment Keith thought the webcam had frozen but the movement in the background gave away the fact that Pidge was just trying to hold in her laughter.

“Okay, explain that from the beginning.”  
In as little detail as possible, Keith told her how he’d thought Shiro had been working out and Pidge’s grin grew larger and larger until he thought her cheeks were growing to crack from the effort.

“Woah… You saw what most people would pay to see.”  
Keith groaned, secretly hoping that Pidge wasn’t going to be among the countless men and women who not-so-inconspicuously checked his brother out. Even the sight of the metal arm was not enough to put most people off Shiro’s toned physique and tall stature. In fact, for some it added to the imagination as they eyed the shining limb up with a lustful gaze. Sometimes people had a tough time believing the two were brothers.  
But then again, Keith also wouldn’t have believed it if he saw them together on the street.

After Keith had hung up the video call with Pidge, having promised her the eleven Taco Bells, no complaints about giving her a lift to school and to sign in to his Voltron account later that night, he heard the sound he was dreading and looked to the floor as he muttered a quiet “come in.”  
Allura poked her head around the door and smiled softly, her cheeks a little pink. Now with her clothes on, which consisted of a white blouse and an oversized, loose-fitting pastel pink cardigan, denim skinny jeans, with black inch-high high-heeled pumps, she looked every bit the princess her avatar in the game suggested. A few years ago, she’d bleached her naturally dark brown hair to the stunning white it was now and since then, Keith had never seen her roots showing. She gave an awkward cough.

“A peace offering.” With two hands, she held out the mug, which filled the room with the pleasant scent of hot chocolate. “Sorry about earlier,”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Keith accepted the cup and took a grateful sip. “Uh… Thanks. I thought Shiro was going to Javeeno, so…”

“Oh, he is! We met up for lunch and… We thought you wouldn’t be home for another half-an-hour, so…”

“Yeah, no, uh… I got it. Thanks for hot chocolate.” Keith hoped that Allura would take that as a cue to leave. Not that he didn’t like her, on the contrary. She made his brother happy, and she’d grown to like the youngest.

When they first met, the two were awkward. Not many people know how to speak to a fourteen-year-old without knowing one, but she’d adjusted Keith’s unique way of communicating back then. His sullen silences said more than anything he could’ve conveyed by speaking. Allura had never blamed him for the amount of time he and Shiro had to spend together, especially in those early days. In fact, there were nights, when Keith would wake up screaming or gasping for breath, and after the initial panic he’d suddenly become aware of Allura’s warmth as she held him, often rocking slightly as she shushed him, whispering calmly. If it was anyone else, he’d probably have shoved them away. But the combination of Allura stroking his hair and soothing him like he was a baby and Shiro sitting at the end of the bed, eyes full of concern but with a calming smile playing on his lips had felt… Not familiar, but pleasant. The memory gave Keith a warm feeling at the pit of his stomach and that’s what drove him to finally smile.

“Is Shiro in the kitchen?” Allura visibly brightened.

“Yes, he wanted to ask you about your… Your day,” She’d changed her phrasing at the last moment, but Keith had understood. Together they walked towards the kitchen.

 

When Shiro looked up from his tablet, he’d turned a shade of pink that was not much darker than the shade of Allura’s cardigan. But he cleared his throat of any awkwardness as Keith pulled himself onto the stool on the other side of the counter.

“Hey.”

“Hey… How did your meeting go?” Shiro said into his coffee mug. Keith stifled a sigh. He knew Shiro was asking so he would know that he went to the appointment, just in case Coran forgot to tell him if he didn’t. But mostly, Shiro liked to know about Keith’s day. It wasn’t the same scripted conversation you might have with someone at a check-out. 

“He gave me a pamphlet and his phone number.” Shiro choked into his coffee mug, managing to contain his laughter for the time being.

“That’s… Nice of him? Did you get a chance to talk about your lack of sleep or did he tell you about the evolution of phones?” Now it was Keith’s turn to smile.

“We didn’t talk much.”

“You mean you didn’t talk much,” Shiro stated, rather than asked. His raised eyebrow at least reassured Keith that his brother wasn’t going to turn it into an argument, but he wasn’t going to let it slide either. “I don’t know how many times we’re going to have this conversation, Keith, but you need to talk to someone about this. I did-“ He smiled fondly at Allura, who returned it before biting into an apple and moving to stand next to him. “- And I felt like a weight had been lifted.” Shiro pulled Allura in closer to him and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, well… It doesn’t matter right now, does it?” Shiro’s eyes narrowed in on Keith but he grinned.

“No. Not right now.”

Allura stayed with Keith for a couple hours after Shiro left and Keith felt a little bit of warmth from the fact that she was willing to spend time with him and not just his brother. Even though the context was very different.  
Shiro hadn’t left until he double and triple checked that he had everything and had made sure that the brothers had promised that they’d both knock in future. Allura helped Keith make dinner (lasagne, salad and a small side of potato wedges) and even helped him clear up the plates before dashing off to meet her mum and dad at some kind of fancy five-star restaurant.

Although Keith had never met her father, everyone knew of her family. Alfor Lionheart was the mayor of Altea and had been since God knows when. He prided himself on having the ideal family and having more or less recreated Altea from a large town in the middle of nowhere to a well-established, thriving city in a matter of a few short decades. Allura was his only daughter, the apple of his eye and strictly off-limits to anyone that hadn’t been thoroughly scrutinised by the mayor himself. She was treated like a princess and it showed. Apparently the two had met through a party, seemingly running in the same circles and had hit it off right away. Maybe it was something to do with them both having more responsibilities than the average young adult, with Shiro being the legal guardian of his younger brother and the co-partner of a prosperous VR gaming company, and Allura always having to keep the public status as golden girl.

Keith stretched before grabbing his VR goggles and controls from their spot on the TV stand and throwing himself onto one of the bean-bag chairs in the living room. For a second he couldn’t see a thing, but as soon as he hit start, his world erupted into colour, with his avatar coming to life from the last checkpoint he and Pidge had saved from. The planet was beautiful, with dense forests and mines filled with resources and Keith couldn’t help but wonder if Pidge had gone on a solo adventure whilst she was waiting for him.  
Red_Blade had regained maximum health whilst the game was saved and now stood, with purple fur, pointed ears, pointed teeth and glowing yellow eyes. As a point of principle, Keith made sure the character had his dark mullet and wore red and white armour. After all, his name wouldn’t make sense if he wore any other colour. His personalised bayard was strapped to his leg for easy access and would elongate into a red and silver blade that Shiro had let Keith design himself, and he was rather proud of it.

“Where are you, K-bird?” he said quietly, the voice recognition easily connecting him to Pidge’s headset.

“Took you long enough! Did you get those photos I asked for?” She had a hint of slyness in her voice and Keith grimaced.

“No. Can we go and kill something now? I’ve had a bad day.”

“Keith, you’ve killed Galra because, and I quote, ‘Pidge, I’ve had the best day of my life and I need to burn off some energy’. Don’t pretend your mood is what drives you to do these things.”

“… So can we?”

“Yeah.”

The two had hopped into the respective robotic lions, with Keith donning the temperamental red one and Pidge having green. Within the game, there were only five lions, and the ‘paladins’ who piloted them not only had to find them but gain their trust before being granted entry. Shiro had pondered the idea of gifting the red lion to Keith, but instead he let him work for it. It was the hardest one to get, with it being placed directly in the middle of a galra ship. Pidge had also worked hard for her lion, but it was found in a much friendlier location. Shiro piloted the black lion, and had since two other players had found the yellow one that was hidden on a desert-like planet and the blue one, which was situated much closer to the starting base than anyone could have guessed. But Keith had little interest in finding the other two pilots. He didn’t play well with others, and he only occasionally went on missions with Pidge. Most of the time he played on his own, venting his frustration into the game. 

He’d become somewhat of a legend among the Voltron community and many had speculated that he might be a non-player character (NPC), placed as a plot strategy by the game’s developers. Keith had never disclosed his identity and didn’t care if people thought he was a computer. It prevented them from attempting to send him friend requests.  
As it stood, he had exactly three friends in the game; K-bird (Pidge) and Shiro and Matt. Shiro would change his name regularly, not wanting the novice gamers to know he was the developer. His reason being that he could engage in ‘casual’ conversation with the customers and work out what he and Matt needed to do to improve the gaming experience. This interaction was one of the many reasons why the game was of the highest quality.

“Go loose, Pidge!” Keith shouted louder than necessary as the younger girl started throwing rocks and using her bayard (a small, concealable, taser-like weapon) to stun the hoards of galra swarming in. Sometimes the hand to hand combat was more fun than using the lions.

“I got the fucker! Oh, by the way, Red_Blade,” She said, ducking a punch from one hefty looking galra and using her bayard to leave him a twitching mess on the ground. “- Hunk’s having a party next Saturday.” Another dodge and three galras fell into the large crevice behind her.  
Keith tensed, but narrowly avoided being speared as he decapitated the one behind him.

“I don’t do parties, Pidge.” 

“Aw, come on!” She climbed up onto a large boulder. “It’s not going to be huge, and Hunk makes the best cookies.”   
Keith’s blade speared another soldier. 

“It’s not Hunk that’s the problem,” He joined Pidge on the boulder. “It’s Lance.”  
Pidge took a moment to look at him, her avatar resembling her, except her facial features and short hair were obscured by the helmet she wore.

“You never told me what happened at that party, you know.”  
Keith jumped down, taking out three of their pursuers. “It doesn’t matter.”  
Pidge followed him, casually stunning the one Keith had missed as she walked up behind him.

“You’re really living up to your ‘mysterious’ avatar, you know that?” Keith chuckled, but his face quickly turned grim. The unmistakable sound of thruster engines covered up the sound of metal scraping against metal. Another spacecraft.

“Pidge, if that’s another galra ship, there’ll be too many!”

“You don’t need to tell me! I’m down to ten HP!”

A wave of panic washed over him as he tried to work out the distance between him and red. Pidge’s lion was closer, but there were more galra forces in between them that way. Keith quickly put on his helmet, which obstructed his vision slightly by offered him better protection against the onslaught that was about to come. A huge weight suddenly knocked him forward and at first he thought he’d been pinned. His HP level dropped to three.  
“Woah! Sorry, buddy, I thought you were a galra with that get up!” A large hand was offered to him, much large than Pidge’s “Good thing you put your helmet on! Quick, we’re gonna cover you until you get back to your lion.”

Keith took a moment to process what he’d just heard. “We? There’s three of us against-“  
A thunderous roar caused everyone, including the advancing hoard to look up, as a blue lion landed in the middle of the battlefield, crushing at least fifty. 

‘Ah.’ Keith thought. ‘That must be the ‘we’.’

“Come on!” Pidge wasted no time in joining the two and helping Keith to his feet as they ran towards a… Yellow lion? Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Four of the lions were together. All they’d need was Shiro. 

He was too transfixed on the lion, too dazed to see the shadow of an abnormally large galra before it was too late to turn and defend himself. But a sudden bright light caused the attacker to drop dead, landing on top of Keith. His HP dropped down to one.   
Suddenly, he was scooped up. The guy who shot him earlier now carried him as if he was nothing as they ran. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t protest but spared a glance to look at the man carrying him. The ID above his head registered him as ‘Master-Chef’, with a character level of 89, which was only one less than pidge and seven less than Keith. He turned his head to look behind them at the blue lion. It moved more awkwardly than red or green, but whoever was piloting her more than made up for his lack of driving skills in his ability to shoot. Keith managed to read the ID chip before he was carried into the yellow lion.

‘Player: Sharp-Shooter. Level: 97.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> And a thank you to 'tru goff' for the support! <3


	3. Long Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains mentions of operation scars and Lance sending nudes! Well... Sort of.. I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! This chapter is unbeta-ed as it is one in the morning where I'm from and I need to use the sleep! I apologise and advance! Please enjoy!
> 
> Edit: I'm really sorry, I posted this without copying in the whole chapter! T.T I've added it now!

Keith examined the scene before him with apprehension as he stepped into the room. Pidge’s avatar sat with her helmet off, talking to the two newcomers who were laughing at some old story she was recounting. Although her character’s appearance was very similar to what she really looked like, at least to Keith, she’d designed herself with pointed ears, like his, and creamy skin that bordered on yellow. Both of her eyes were entirely brown and large and framed by round glasses. She didn’t turn to acknowledge his arrival, but she knew he was there.

Opposite her sat the larger man, Master-Chef, whose nose was pressed up high enough to cause wrinkles on the bridge and long ears that nearly reached his shoulders as they hung down. He resembled a faun, with large deer-like legs, covered in brown fur and two small horns on his forehead.

Next to him sat possibly one of the most beautiful avatars Keith had ever seen. Sharp-Shooter’s ears were pointed, and his tanned skin and short, messy white hair made him think of an elf, but he quickly buried the thought. Two blue crescent shapes were situated about an inch below his eyes in the corners and they appeared to glow, even in the brightness of the room. He’d changed out of his armour and now wore a trim teal-blue and white waist coat with gold accents and a light blue cape that had a gold border and connected around his neck with silver button. A gold band with a blue gem in the middle covered his forehead slightly. It took too long for Keith to realise that the man’s dark blue eyes were fixing him with the same searching gaze.

“So you’re Red_Blade, huh?”

Keith said nothing.

“Can I call you Red?”

He willed himself to come up with something intelligent.

“Nah, you’re right! Red might confuse the lion!”

It doesn’t even need to be intelligent, he just needed to say something!

“Blade!” He blurted out, startling Master-Chef and Pidge turned to raise an eyebrow at him. The Altean just grinned and Keith cleared his throat. “Blade’s fine.”

“Well, then, Blade… I’m Sharp-Shooter, but you can just call me Shooter. And this is Master-Chef, but we don’t call him Master.”  
Pidge let out a laugh and Chef grinned.

“Hi. Sorry about, you know, shooting you earlier. With the purple fur and the ears I thought maybe-“

“It happens,” Keith cut him off, but no hostility came into his voice. Frankly the galra-look either worked for him or against him. Sometimes people stayed away or galra militants would just assume he’s one of them. Other times it encouraged others to attack him, but he generally looked at that as a good practice at sparring.

“Do you wanna sit down?” Keith resisted the urge to shuffle on the spot and walked over to sit down next Pidge, who stretched her legs out and placed them on top of his.

“I was just telling them about the trouble we had getting red.” Pidge grinned, remembering how Keith had tried to coax the lion into letting down her particle barrier.

“She really wouldn’t let you in, even when you were at level eighty? Man, Yellow let me in at level twenty-six! I’m amazed no one else got hold of her while I was car-sharing with this one,” he jerked a thumb at Shooter, who only laughed.

“Yeah, she’s… hard-to-get.” Keith murmured, still not feeling comfortable talking to two near-strangers.

“Like lion, like paladin, right?” Shooter said with a purr.

“What?” Keith nearly stuttered but composed himself last minute, grateful that the other players couldn’t see him blush. He felt his stomach do a back-flip as the taller man smirked.

“We’ve been looking for you guys for months! We thought maybe if you were looking for us and we were looking for you then we might cross paths, but you guys are pretty illusive!” Cheft sat up straight, and although he looked nervous, the excitement in his eyes was unmistakable.

“So… Are you in?” Shooter sounded as if he already knew the answer.

“In to what?”

“The team, duh. We want to form Voltron!” 

It was at that moment, as Keith’s mind raced for excuses, that Shiro entered the room. His avatar looked remarkably like the creator in every way, except ‘Attackashi’ never removed his black and white armour, which meant his face was always covered by the helmet. Reading the name above the newcomer, Keith groaned, causing the others to glance at him in confusion, apart from Pidge who choked out a laugh.

“You’ve changed your name, again?” Keith murmured, causing the taller one of the brothers to turn.

“Altea likes it,”

“Altea is probably cringing just as much as the rest of us. Change it.” Keith said in a monotoned.

The private chat popped up in the corner of Keith’s goggles and he spared it a glance.

Attackashi - ‘She wasn’t cringing earlier…’ – 22:03 

Keith blanched and gagged and just managed to regain his breath and some of his composure as Pidge’s brother, Matt ‘Change_Your_Name_Attackashi’ Holt and Allura ‘Princess_Altea’ Lionheart signed on.

Like Shiro, Allura’s avatar was hidden by her pink and white armour, whilst Matt donned in a brown cloak that didn’t do much in the way of covering him up but did make him look a little like a Sith Lord. Pidge flipped him off, with a welcoming smile.

“Um… Hi?” Master-Chef’s voice pulled them out of their private argument as Shiro held out a hand.

“You must be the blue and yellow paladins.” 

“No, Attackashi, they just dress like that because the other primary colour was taken.” Pidge said, eyeing up the screens at the other side of the room.  
The two nodded and shook hands, introducing themselves in a more formal manner than they had done earlier, with just the red and green paladin. Even in a virtual situation, Keith noted, Shiro was able to dominate the room with his commanding presence and authoritative tone. He had either inherited that trait from being in business for so long or from…  
Keith quickly blocked out the thought of their father and instead focussed on the grin that radiated from Shooter’s direction. That was when he realised that they’d asked him a question.

“Uh… Come again?”

“Forming Voltron.” Matt chipped in. It was clear that he was distracted by something outside of the game, but the co-creator had always been good at multi-tasking.  
Keith looked from Shiro to Shooter and everyone in between. Sure, he wanted to form Voltron. And sure, he always knew that he wouldn’t necessarily know the guys that he’d be playing with. But forming Voltron was the furthest thing from a solo mission, and the game was Keith’s go-to place when he needed to escape the world and the people in it. And now the it would become more like a team mission than him signing in and getting on with it. It would mean communicating, a skill in which he sorely lacked.

“We can’t form Voltron.” He said, keeping the reality of just how relieved he was for the loop hole out of his voice. “All paladins need to be at level one hundred. And only one of us is qualified.” 

Shiro cleared his throat with a cough and everyone immediately turned their attention to the tallest of the group.

“Blade has a point. But the fastest way to gain points in Voltron is to fight as a team. So, the more time you guys spend training together, the sooner it will be until you can combine.”

Pidge looked thoughtful for a moment before turning to red and blue paladins.

“Why don’t we flip for it?” He enthusiasm showing in her large grin.

“Uh, K-Bird? We don’t have coins, and it’d be too easy for someone to lie about the results if we flipped it by ourselves.” Chef seemed to shy away from the conflict, but he’d summed up everyone’s thoughts.

“I didn’t mean it literally! Blade, Shooter, you’re both at level ninety-seven, right?

“Right.” They both said together, Keith a little slower.

“Well, how about this; If Blade gets to level one hundred first, then we can all disband until we’re all up to level one-hundred and then we’ll review situation.”

“And if Shooter wins?” It was strange seeing someone as large as Attackashi almost take orders from someone as small as K-bird. Even in real life, some people found this jarring. But Shiro had always been open to Pidge’s ideas. The latter smiled, as if she knew a secret.

“If Shooter wins, we stay as a team.”

 

Keith had signed off the game shortly after the rest of the group had come to the unanimous agreement that they’d remain as a team until either the red or blue paladin reached the level needed to form Voltron. Having pondered the idea of taking off in red and training, getting a head start on the Altean, he decided he couldn’t stand the thought of sticking around and answering a tonne of questions about past missions and what it was like to fly red and if all the rumours about stuff he’d done in the game were true. Most of them weren’t; he had no idea where the story that he’d blackmailed the game’s creator had come from, but the idea made Shiro laugh. 

He pressed cool fingers into his temples and rubbed small circles, closing his eyes tight, focussing on the sound of the rain hitting the French window that lead out onto the balcony. Keith was tempted to go stand out there, let the cool water slowly wash over him as he’d listen to the hum of the city, twenty-seven floors below him. Although many high-rise apartment buildings had been erected over the years, most of Altea still glimmered far below. He could make out the head and tail-lights of cars that travelled up and down the street and in the distance he could just about map out the roads lined with street lamps. In the middle of this star-light maze, there was a large, dark rectangle, with only a few lights here and there. That was the park of Altea. During the day he’d be able to see the lake and the trees. Further out, on the border, family-run farms surrounded the city where it suddenly became rural. A few more miles beyond that was the picturesque mountains, a popular camping spot for both locals and tourists who were drawn in by the wildlife and the scenery.  
These minute details are what made Altea feel like home.

Keith’s day dream was interrupted by the buzz of his phone and he spared it a glance. A text from Shiro read;

‘Still in Javeeno. Managed to come away for a coffee break and see what you were up to.’

He read the text but didn’t respond. Shiro wouldn’t worry about that. He was used to Keith’s radio silence and no longer saw it as an insult, having realised that his brother only spoke when he felt like he needed to respond.

Which was why Keith was startled to hear the second buzz that and immediately unlocked his phone. But the second text hadn’t come from Shiro.

‘Hey, gorjuss.’ Keith’s frown grew deeper as he read the number and didn’t recognise it. Another buzz and another message appeared at the bottom of the screen. ‘A little bird gave me ur number.’ 

For a moment he stood paralysed, as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water down his back. Silently cursing Pidge’s name and making a promise to himself to revoke the Taco Bell privileges, he rapidly replied.

‘I hope your aim’s better than your spelling, dumbass.’ Turning the ringtone up, he placed it on the table next to him, only to pick it up a second later and check to see if Shooter had read it. Noting the ‘seen’ icon next to his last text, Keith felt a twinge of… Not guilt, but embarrassment and his thoughts of backpedalling and apologising were interrupted as a loud ‘ping’ alerted him.

‘Ouch, I didn’t peg you for a gramma nazi’. The little wink-face emoji at the end brought a slight smile to Keith’s lips.

‘*Grammar. What do you want?’

‘To talk to you

His heart hammered against his ribcage and the fluttering in his stomach made him feel slightly sick. Never being one to frequent forums or reply to texts from Shiro, Keith found himself surprised at how easy it was to hit send when he could so easily ignore Sharp-Shooter.

‘About what?’   
Heart and stomach sinking a little with each passing minute, Keith was all but ready to grab the phone and call Pidge for advice.  
At the ‘ping’ Keith snatched his phone, dropping it on the floor, before cursing and making a grab for it.

‘Can we talk?’ 

‘We are talking.’

‘No, I mean can I call you?’ Suddenly the lump in his throat felt like it had grown three times larger and he tried to swallow it down. Part of him wanted to call the gamer, the other part screamed at him to change the subject. It wasn’t like they hadn’t heard each other’s voices before, but the phone call seemed more private. Aside from Pidge and both of their brother’s, Keith never so much as text his online friends with his personal number. Had he even been talking to Shooter long enough to call him a friend? The answer was no, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t talk. But then Keith wouldn’t be able to carefully plan his responses like he could in a text. But then again, why did he care what this   
stranger thought of him?

This back and forth inner argument went on like a tennis match and just as he was ready to give up, the phone rang.

The same unknown number from early showed on the screen and Keith waited for a few seconds before he could change his mind and swiped right, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

Keith’s tongue felt like it had turned into cement.

“Helloooo?”

“Hi.” He said, stiffly.

“Hey there, mullet!” The voice on the other end seemed soft and fun, like everything Keith would’ve wanted to be when he was younger, but he’d come to terms with his own peculiarity a long time ago.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what? Mullet?” The tone was now amused and chipper, and Keith had begun to regret answering the phone less than twenty seconds after he’d accepted the call. For a second his thumb hovered above the red ‘hang-up’ button.

“Sorry. To be honest, I find mullets kind of sexy. In a… weird kind of way.”

Keith’s face exploded with heat and he stammered a little, trying to grasp what the guy had just said.

“Y- You’re kidding, right? You could be some seventy-year-old guy for all I know.”

“You could be too. How do I know that you’re not an old cat-lady trying to get a handsome, smooth-talking younger fella?” There was a laugh at the other end of the line.

“Because if I was, I wouldn’t choose you.” Keith muttered.

“Aw, I’m hurt, Mullet. How do you know I’m not handsome if you don’t know what I look like?”

Keith stayed silent for a moment.

“Did you call me just to boast or did you have a real reason?”

There was some rustling at the end of the line and Shooter’s voice sounded loud, but further away, like he was shouting in an effort to be heard.

“You’ve heard of the phrase ‘know thy enemy’, right?” More shuffling nearly prevented Keith from catching the last part.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Well.” Another pause, followed by a loud thump “I thought I’d do that! Seeing as we’re rivals, y’know, neck ‘n’ neck. Hold on a sec.”  
Keith realised he’d been pacing and moved to lean over the counter, using his elbows to steady himself. Suddenly the phone buzzed and he had to pull it away in order to look at the screen. Shooter had sent him a text and when he opened it, Keith nearly dropped the phone and he felt his entire body flush with heat. For a moment he couldn’t breathe.  
Shooter’s head was missing from the picture but there was still a lot more of him for Keith to see. Tanned skin made him imagine how warm the other must feel to the touch. His chest, abdomen and legs were toned, as if the guy in the picture did a lot of running and he packed slightly more muscle than Keith. Although Shooter was slim, and no doubt with loose-fitting clothes on, he probably would’ve been mistaken for being underweight, he could imagine those abs with such detail that he could practically feel them under his fingertips. The man wore nothing except for some tight fitted blue briefs that left little to the imagination for what was underneath them. A large bulge left Keith wondering if he’d packed them with a sock before the impromptu photo-shoot. Shooters long, slender fingers had thrown up a peace sign.

“- what you see?”

Keith coughed, realising that the man in the picture was still on the phone.

“What? Uh… what? I didn’t catch that.” He could feel the smirk against his ear.

“I said ‘do you like what you see?’” 

Yes. Keith thought. A thousand times, yes.

“I… I don’t know.” Some of the blood that had rushed down south at the sight had evidentially made its way back up into his brain. “How do I know you didn’t just steal it from some guy’s Instagram?”

A chuckle sounded through the speaker.

“Naughty. You just want me to send another picture.” That hadn’t been his intention, but he felt his dick twitch at the thought. “Well, if you insist, mullet.”  
Keith held his breath until his phone pinged and he quickly opened the next picture. This one was similar, with Shooter standing in front of a full-length mirror, with his head blocked out of view. But this time he had a pen in his hand and he’d written across his hip.

‘Sharp-Shooter. Property of Red-Blade.’

Keith’s breath hitched.

“Believe me now, Blade-ster?”

He nodded before remembering that the man on the other end couldn’t see him. “Yeah…” It came out more high-pitch than he wanted, and he coughed to clear his throat. “Uh, yeah, I believe you…” Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing, willing his erection away. “… Do you normally send people nudes when you first meet?”

“First of all; it’s only a nude if the dick’s out. Secondly; no, not really. It must be the mullet, mullet. Bringing my inner thot out!”

Keith snorted, before he was hit with a wave of anxiety which added to his dizziness and sent a billion questions running through his head at once. Did Shooter expect him to return the favour? Would he be offended if he didn’t? Would he show anyone? He gnawed on his lower lip, considering the worst situation; that the pictures ended up online, or the best situation;... Well, Keith didn’t know what the outcome of the best situation would be. He’d only put himself in a position like this once before at a party and it had gone down like a turd in a punch bowl. Although his clothes had been left on, and his actions with Lance that night hadn’t gone further than clumsily groping at each other in the darkness of a classmate’s garden shed, he’d been left feeling vulnerable, heartbroken, humiliated and hurt... Keith swallowed down the memory, letting it fuel his decision. This felt risk free in comparison. He had no intention of showing Shooter his face, and he had nothing to lose with the stranger. And he couldn’t deny that he felt a little giddy and excited at the thought of doing this.

 

“Are you okay? Did you have an aneurysm or something?” Shooter’s voice had a mocking edge to it, but it did little to mask the slight concern that was underneath.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Keith muttered, no longer thinking too hard as he put the phone onto hands-free mode and placing it placing it on top of his desk once he’d walked to the bedroom. Not for the first time, he was glad he’d opted for the large full-length mirror as he pulled his shirt off and loosened his belt. He frowned at the reflection in front of him before he shifted his skinny jeans as much as he could, placing a finger through one of the belt loops on his right side and pushing down, revealing his barely visible hip bones. He really should eat more. He kicked the bottom of the mirror, causing it to tilt forward so his head was no longer in view as he picked up his phone and pointed the camera at the mirror. He tensed his abdomen, letting his muscles show as he focussed in on his hips whilst he snapped the first couple pictures. Hesitating for a second, he kicked off his jeans, lying on the bed in his red and black striped boxers as he let one arm flop lazilly across his stomach. One leg laid stretched out casually whilst the other remained bent but fell to the side, giving the camera a perfect angle of his covered crotch and his toned chest as he pointed the phone downwards, as if the picture was taken with Keith’s own eyes.  
Before he could reconsider it he selected two pictures; one in front of the mirror and one of him lying down before he hit send. Keith gave a sparing glance at the clothes on the floor, as he heard a groan from the speaker.

“Damn, I thought you’d be hot, but never this hot.” Shooter whistled.

Keith laughed, in relief more than amusement. No one had ever referred to him as hot. In comparison to Lance, they were similar in terms of muscle definition but Lance was definitely a little leaner and more tanned. Keith felt like a pasty ghost when he looked at the pictures, but the appreciative compliments kept coming from the other end of the line. And for the first time in years, Keith felt a glow, a little bit of confidence that came with feeling like you were attractive to someone. 

“Wow...” Shooter sighed, trailing off.

“Thanks...” Keith mumbled, feeling the adrenaline slowly fade, leaving a warmth in its echo.

“Hey... Don’t take this the wrong way, but can I ask you something?” Shooter’s voice sounded like he’d chosen the words carefully and the adrenaline rush Keith had felt a minute early came back with a vengeance, but this time the anxiety of what was to come prevented him from feeling anything but nausea. He knew what Shooter was going to ask. It was the same question everyone asked.

“Where’d you get the scar?”

Keith’s fingers unconsciously traced the line running from just below his navel to just above the first set of ribs from his abdomen. The flesh there felt uneven and raised, even though it had had nine and half years to heal. Although it was no longer the dark purple that it had been in the first couple of years, it was still visible in the light. Although it still had a slight pinky/purple hue, it was well on its way to turning silver, but the mark would always be there, and Keith had learned to accept that a long time ago. But still... He felt a little twinge of unease having shown it to someone else.

“... I had a splenectomy when I was eight.”

“Oh... Right,” Keith swallowed and just as he was about to apologise, Shooter chipped in again. “I have no idea what a splenectomy is.” He sounded sheepish and Keith couldn’t help but smile despite himself. It quickly faded

“I had my spleen removed after a car accident. It’d ruptured.” Keith felt more naked than he was an desperately wanted to go back to the lighthearted fun with a stranger he was having only a couple minutes before. He started to speak but was cut off abruptly by Shooter.

“Woah, dude, I’m sorry... But I gotta say, your hot as hell! Man, you could grate cheese on those abs!”  
Keith blinked a few times before bursting into laughter that rocked him so hard it made his stomach ache a little. 

“Coming from you? How many people do you manage to get to send you semi-nudes?”

Shooter gave a snort and his voice suddenly took on a nervous tone.

“Actually, you’re the first to pick up the phone...”  
That genuinely surprised Keith. Not the fact that Shooter had tried to contact players before, he seemed like the kind of guy who enjoyed making friends and would have an easy time doing so. But Keith struggled to imagine anyone who wouldn’t find him charming, once you got passed the annoying, arrogance he gave off in the game. Keith sniggered.

“‘Keep thy enemies close’?” He asked, quoting mockingly.

Shooter chuckled in return.

“I keep my friends closer.”

And to his surprise, Keith considered that the race with Shooter might not be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! The next chapter will most likely contain smut and will be out in the next nine days... See you guys soon! :D


	4. Feel You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there guys!
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long! It is longer than the other chapters and also I had a lot stuff going on irl, that I needed to attend to, but this chapter is finally finished!
> 
> For anyone who read chapter three within the first 36 hours of being published, some how half the chapter got deleted during the posting! The rest of that chapter was added as soon as I was told that it was missing (thank you again to the reader that pointed it out to me! I may have never realised! XD) so if you want some semi-nude selfies between Lance and Keith, you will find them at the end of Chapter three, if you haven't read that part already!
> 
> Finally... This chapter contains smut! Or at least video smut! You have been warned!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Sorry for any spelling errors, this chapter is unbetad!
> 
> *Lance's Family!*
> 
> Magdelena 'Mima' (Grandmother)  
> Julieta 'Mama' (Mother)  
> Nicolas 'Papi' (Father)
> 
> Josephine 'Jo' (23)  
> Alicia (20)  
> Lance (18)  
> Bianca 'Bee' (16)  
> Raul (15)  
> Zoe 'Zozo' (11)  
> Mia 'Mimi' (10)
> 
> Florence 'Flo' (5 - Lance's Neice)  
> Lucas 'Luke' (5 - Lance's Nephew)  
> Sophie 'Soph' (3 - Lance's Neice)

Keith felt, rather than heard, the vibration of his phone as it alerted him to a text message, the force of it waking him up and he was pleasantly surprised to find he hadn’t woken in a panic-induced sweat. Sleepily, he reached for his phone, assuming it would be in its usual spot on the bedside table, but frowned when he couldn’t feel it. Sitting up, he winced as he turned on the lamp and felt around for his mobile until he found it nestled against his hip. The drop in his stomach subsided when he realised he hadn’t cracked the screen during the night.

It had been five days since Keith had met Sharp-Shooter in the virtual reality game and during that time the two had gotten more and more comfortable sharing pictures and flirting with one another. Shooter had even admitted to wanking off to one picture Keith had sent, where he’d been lying on his stomach, straddling a pillow and sticking his ass into the air. He’d been wearing tight pair of underpants that had shaped him nicely and he felt a slight bit of a pride knowing that Shooter, whoever he was, was able to come from a faceless picture of him. Apart from their faces, the one other thing that the two hadn’t shown each other was what was underneath their respective boxers and briefs. Keith had a feeling the two would probably end up exchanging dick-pics eventually, and he anticipated it with the kind of excitement you might have when you’re queueing for a roller coaster ride; terrified, but the thrill of it was too much to pass up.

Given their increasing correspondence over the past few days, the dark-haired man wasn’t too surprised to find Shooter had texted him. He’d quickly become aware of Keith’s unusual sleeping pattern and would usually just assume he was awake. Until this morning, he’d never been wrong.

‘Morning beautiful.’ Shooter had signed it with four kisses and a heart, which had made the recipient’s face heat up as he smiled into his duvet.

‘Morning. Why are you up this early?’ Keith hit send, watching the three dots at the bottom of the screen hop up and down as Shooter typed.

‘Well...’ 

He frowned, sitting up and getting ready to hit the call button when a picture popped up of Shooter’s pyjama bottoms. They were faded black with thick blue stripes and finger-guns gestured to the tent that had arisen at the crotch. Once again he felt the familiar heat rush down to the pit of his stomach and then further down into his own cock. He desperately wanted to see what was under the fabric.

‘Help me out here, baby, I gotta get up in 15 minutes!’ The third text came, tone slightly more desperate, but Keith didn’t feel in a giving mood, even though he was well aware of the cardinal need that came from having morning wood. He smirked as he typed.

‘Yeah? Just use the pictures from last night.’ 

He put his phone down and kicked off the rest of his duvet as he slipped out of bed, pulling the sheets back up so they looked semi-tidy and grabbing a pair of black skinny jeans and a dark grey hoodie that simply read ‘heck’ in black writing. It had been a present from Pidge for his seventeenth birthday. He laid them on his bed along with a pair of black briefs, socks and his fingerless leather gloves, before grabbing his phone again and making his way to the bathroom.  
Shooter had replied.

‘Please??? I’ll return the favour!’ 

An idea suddenly sprung to Keith’s mind and he grinned as he pulled off the T-shirt and PJs he’d been wearing the night before. He hesitated but before his fear could get the best of him, he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his hips, leaving just enough of his abdomen showing to tease his newfound friend. Angling the camera, Keith tugged on the towel, pulling it down slightly on the right so his hip was showing. If he pulled it another two inches to the left, he’d probably get at least a partial picture of his dick. He typed a short message before sending the image.

‘Well... I was just about to get a shower.’

Keith didn’t wait for a reply as he jumped into the cascading water. Not that he wasn’t massively turned on by Shooter, but if he ever felt the need to rub one out, it was at the end of the day, when he could use it as a way to destress. And this way, he mused, he had something to look forward to.

 

After drying his hair and tying it back into a short ponytail, with his bangs framing his face, in anticipation of gym class that morning, Keith wandered into kitchen, surprised to smell eggs and bacon frying and hearing the laughter that usually accompanied Shiro whenever Allura stayed over. They both smiled as he walked in.  
Shiro was stood at the oven, still in his pyjamas as he served up a couple rashes of bacon onto a plate that already held two slices of toast, a boiled egg and some beans. Allura was perched on a stool at the counter, sipping her morning coffee as she scanned the news on her tablet computer, moving her plate to the side to make room for Keith to join her.

“I guess you’re finally up then.” Shiro said, handing Keith the plate and cutlery as he went to the fridge pour some orange juice.

Keith frowned in confusion at his plate but gratefully began to eat, realising how hungry he actually was.

“I would’ve made breakfast, you know,” He said between mouthfuls of toast dipped in egg yolk.

“And have Mr Smythe calling me about you being late for school? Forget it. I don’t mind making breakfast if it means you’re getting a good night’s sleep.”

Keith’s frown grew deeper as he paused, looking from Shiro, to Allura and finally to the kitchen clock. He almost choked as he read the time. It was quarter-to-eight, meaning Keith probably hadn’t woken up until seven at the earliest. For a moment, he sat dumbfounded. The night before, he’d fallen asleep at... Was it midnight? Earlier than that? In any case, he’d had at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep and with no nightmares. Keith, who seldom got more than three hours if he was lucky, couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept right through the night.

As soon as rechecked his maths, he started scrolling through his mobile to see when he had sent his last text, which had been to Shooter after a two hour training session online, where he found himself stunned that his opponent was proving difficult to spar with and wasn’t as easy to take down as many of the other’s Keith had fought over the years. That had been just after eleven and Keith had fallen asleep maybe half an hour later.

“Shiro, have you seen my bag?” Allura asked, leaning over to wipe a crumb off of his face.

“Bedroom, I think.”

She hopped off the stool, casting them both a warm smile as she left the room. Shiro looked like a love-sick puppy.

“Hey, Keith.” Shiro’s voice, although not unhappy, held a serious tone that made Keith pause in eating his breakfast and pay full attention to his older brother. “... I wanted to run this past you first. But what do you think about me asking Allura to move in?”

At first he just stared at Shiro, not quite hearing or understanding what he was saying, until he felt the corners of his lips tug upwards.

“You’ve asked her to move in?”

Shiro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he stood up straight.

“Well, no, not yet. I wanted to see if you were okay with it first. But yeah, I was going to ask her tonight.”

Keith gave a rare laugh and smiled. He liked Allura a lot and could hardly remember a time where she hadn’t been in their lives. She also seemed to enjoy his company, rather than seeing him as the thing that her boyfriend was responsible for.

“You didn’t need to ask me, it’s your apartment, Shiro. But... That’s great, really. Congratulations,”

“Slow down, she hasn’t said yes yet,” For once, Shiro looked somewhat nervous, with the pink in his cheeks seeming out of place but not unexpected given the circumstances. “You better get going, though. You’ve got gym class first, right?”

 

It had been a good couple years since Keith had found himself having to run to school, usually leaving plenty of time to get there early and pick up Pidge on the way. What made matters worse is that it was the temperature the night before had plummeted a few degrees below zero despite the weather report stating that it was going to be mild. As a result, the road was too icy for him to ride his bike and the pavements were not much better. At some point that afternoon, trucks would sweep through the city of Altea and salt the roads, but for now all Keith could do was stumble and slide his way to school. A couple times he slipped, one time skidding a couple meters on his back before he managed to stand up again.  
He took out his phone, holding tight with both hands so he wouldn’t risk dropping it and cursed as he saw the time.

8:23 AM.

At this rate he’d probably miss half of the first lesson. But Keith couldn’t muster up energy to care too much about that. No doubt a lot of students would be late today. 

“Hey, Keith! Keith!” The sound of his name being called was barely audible through the blaring music coming from his earphones, and he took them out as he turned. Pidge leaned out of a car window, waving a croissant at him. Her face was covered in crumbs and her mouth was still full.  
Next to her, in the driver’s seat, Matt smiled, pressing down on the hand-break and stopping the car completely once he’d pulled up to the curb.

“Why the hell are you still wearing fingerless gloves? How can you pee if your hands are too cold to grip anything?” Pidge yelled, causing a short elderly woman who was out collecting her mail to turn and frown. The girl either paid no attention, or was oblivious to the scalding look.

“I’ve got deep pockets,” Keith replied, stepping up to the car.

“Fair enough. Hey, do you want a lift?”

Keith froze, looking at the inside of the car and at the back seat. He glanced at Matt, who still had his hands ten-and-two on the wheel and at Pidge, who was busy fiddling with her seatbelt. He felt a cold nausea wash over him as everything around him briefly came out of focus. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a step back. There, he stayed paralysed.

He began to count silently, taking a deep breath in.

‘One... Two... Three...’

And let it out again.

‘Four... Five... Six...’

“Keith?” Matt’s voice sounded far away, but he heard the distinct click of a seatbelt coming undone and a car door being opened.

He opened his eyes.

“Yeah, um... Thanks, but I’ll walk. I’m feeling a little sick.” Although he’d tried to keep his fear at bay, his voice betrayed him, and Matt hesitated with one foot inside the car and the other firmly planted on the outside. Keith noticed him glance at his phone, probably wondering if he should call Shiro.  
“I’m fine, really. Sorry-”

Both of the Holt siblings had their eyes trained on him, but Pidge broke the silence sharply, although there was no hostility in her tone.

“It’s okay, Keith. See you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Matt said a quick goodbye, promising to come round for a pizza sometime soon before getting back into his car and driving away. They’d probably get to the school in about four minutes.

Keith carried on walking, despite the sudden heaviness in his legs, making him feel clumsy and numb. The tension that had taken over him just minutes before gradually settled to uneasiness, and he found himself digging in his pockets for his phone. He needed the distraction.

“Hey, beautiful.” Shooter’s tone was always carefree and the caller now associated it with excitement. He forced the blush down as he trudged through the ice, trying to get some grip.

“Hey... Did I help you out earlier?”

A warm laugh came through the receiver and was soon followed by a purr.

“Yeah... Yeah you did. You should send me a billing address, for the amount of times I’ve had to wash my sheets because of you.”

If it was anyone else saying this, Keith would’ve probably hung up in disgust, but all he could do was snigger and once again feel some sort of accomplishment.  
“You owe me big, Shooter... I mean, all that hard work to get the lighting right, and making sure I didn’t pull the towel down too low...” He trailed off, leaving the suggestion hanging in the air as he passed a young family, thankful that they hadn’t overheard the conversation.

“Oh yeah?” Shooter now sounded a hoarse, which Keith could only imagine was due to the imagery he’d just given. “How big do you want it?”

The mullet-haired man paused in his thoughts, trying to work out the implication, but Shooter carried on.

“I could show you everything, y’know...” Shooter purred, and Keith’s face suddenly felt hot. “I could talk you through it...”

“Uh... Really? You’d... You’d want to do that?” Keith choked out, having to think about something else. Skinny jeans weren’t the best choice of clothing for concealing a boner in public, so he wanted to avoid it where possible. 

There was a laugh, but Shooter’s voice took on a reassuring tone. “If you want to have phone sex, we can have phone sex. But maybe a little later tonight. I’m on my way to class.”

Keith groaned. “You’re an asshole, y’know that? I’m going to be thinking about that all day now.”

“Good! Save those sexy thoughts for later, Kitten. Gotta go!”

“Bye,”

“Bye, angel!”

Keith hung up, barely suppressing a grin at the thought of how all the flirtatious phone calls had done it for him. Just the thought of moaning into the phone and hearing Shooter’s praise was more than enough for him to wonder if he could hold out for twelve hours. Probably not, but the best things come to those who wait.

 

Whichever moron had come up with having gym class first thing in the morning was probably one of the biggest sadists in the world. Not that Keith minded the exercise, or the chance to blow off some steam, but he hated feeling sweaty for longer than necessary. There was never enough time to completely cleanse himself of the grime that would collect during the hour, which left him feeling foul and conscious of his own hygiene for the rest of the day. To make matters worse, a lot the guys in the year either didn’t wear deodorant or simply ditched the shower all together, as Keith would be forced to attend class with a bunch of teenagers who smelt so strongly of BO that he thought his sinuses were going to burn up.

The only plus side was that Keith got special treatment in terms of where he could change. At Shiro’s request, the coach had granted Keith permission to use the staff changing room, which was literally just a lockable shower room with a toilet in, so he could change in private. At first his classmates had thought this was odd, but it was only one of the many strange things surrounding Keith Kogane. Like why he barely spoke, why he never had girlfriend or how come his parents never came to open days or attend parent-teacher conferences. And after hours of sullen silences, they’d come to terms with the fact that Keith was never going to tell them why he never wanted to change in the communal locker rooms.

Although he didn’t mind showing his scar to strangers who had no clue who he was and couldn’t go around speculating with his schoolmates on how the damn thing got there to begin with, it was another matter when it came to people he’d see every day. Before Shiro had found him, prompting the move to Altea, Keith had been bounced from school to school and home to home, never settling in or letting himself get comfortable. Although none of his foster families were abusive, there were a few that Keith knew were only in it for the money. He was a guest, not a permanent family member. One home made him feel so much like an outsider that he’d only stayed there for two weeks before running away, with social services catching up with him in a motel three days later when the manager reported a minor apparently on his own. The longest placement had lasted six months, but that move had been cut short after his foster-sister had told everyone about the scar. At the time it had been red and inflamed, which added fuel to the rumour that the same sister had spread that he was diseased. One thing led to another and he was deemed as having a hot-headed temper after he’d gotten into a fight with the girl and with a couple other kids at the school on separate occasions. He’d been expelled from four schools before his final move, and even the last school couldn’t wait to get rid of the kid with the discipline issues.

But Keith was as determined as Shiro to make this work, and so he’d worked hard at trying to keep calm. One of the best ways, he had realised, was to avoid situations that would cause his temper to flare up. So when Coran had slapped a piece of A4 paper and a pen on the table in front of him and asked him to list all the things that irritated him to no end, Keith had filled both sides in small bullet points and had to ask for another piece to write on. At the top of the list he’d written ‘assholes’ and this led to an in depth discussion about the school policy on cursing and what examples Keith could give where ‘assholes’ had caused him to lose his temper. Long story short, no one ever asked Keith about the scar from his splenectomy or the story surrounding it, thanks to the privacy.

 

By the time he’d stepped out of the locker rooms and onto the field, he could see most of his classmates running around the one-thousand-meter track. The rule had always been that you had to run in pairs, so the other person could run to get help if something happened. Keith was about to take off on his own when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder. He spun around, wide-eyed and startled.

“Hey, mullet. Pidge said you were running late.” Lance’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Get it?”

“Yeah, clever, Lance. Why aren’t you running?”

“Coach said we’ve got to run in pairs, so someone had to stay behind and wait for your slow ass!”

“And... You volunteered?” Keith stared at Lance in astonishment.

“Well, no one else was going to!” 

Keith took a breath and steeled himself, before turning to the track and starting off in a full sprint. Lance called out for him in surprise but followed up alongside, easily keeping up with his pace.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Keith!”

“You never do.” Keith muttered, but the run meant it came out louder than he’d meant it to be. Not that he minded if the Cuban boy heard him.

“I meant since Hunk’s taking his cooking exam and Pidge is doing Pidge things, there’s only really me!”

Keith thought for a moment, glancing at the guy running next to him. They’d settled into a steady jog. He had to admit that if he had to run with someone, he was glad it was Lance. When there was no one around to impress, he wasn’t bad company.

“Alright, fine. But you better keep up.”

Lance smirked, the same smirk that used to make him melt, and Keith had to force himself to stare straight ahead so he wouldn’t blush.  
The two ran in silence for a while, before Keith became aware that Lance was lagging behind. He rolled his eyes and slowed down, until they were walking together, catching their breaths. The coach never paid attention to who was running and who was walking anyway.

“Out of breath?” Keith asked, letting a little bit of snobbery sneak into his voice.

Lance just laughed.  
“A little. We’re in no rush, man.”

Keith said nothing, but had to agree. He’d already had a late start and there was no point in trying to catch up with the others just yet. 

“Actually, Keith, I kind of wanted to talk to you...” Lance said, barely more than whisper and suddenly Keith felt weary. Serious didn’t suit Lance at all. “About last week, with the homework.”

The darker haired man frowned when the other showed no sign of wanting to continue.

“I’m sorry. It was kind of a dick move...”  
“Kind of?” 

“Alright, alright, it was a dick move. I panicked and I didn’t think...” Lance seemed to focus on something on the ground instead of looking into his eyes, but Keith was surprised to hear the apology at all and he wondered if it was genuine. Maybe Pidge or Hunk had prompted him to do it, but nothing in Lance’s tone gave it away. He sounded like he meant what he’d said.

“... It’s... Fine?” Keith replied thinly. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Lance, but he’d never been completely trusting of anyone, even his friends. And despite whatever air-brained moves Lance makes, Keith still considered him as a friend, even if they only spent time together because of the friends they shared.

“Really?” Lance looked taken aback but quickly masked it. “Cool.”

The silence between them wasn’t awkward on Keith’s part, but he could feel the other man practically squirming next to him. He’d never known him not to be talkative. But Keith was glad he’d remembered to tuck his phone into his pockets and wasted no time in putting the buds of his earphones into his ears as he scrolled through his playlist. Normally My Chemical Romance would be an option for a running song, but he didn’t want to give Lance the satisfaction, so instead he settled for Delain, selecting one of their earlier albums and resuming the brisk walk.  
He’d only gotten through one song before he felt the earbuds knocked from his head. Keith turned and frowned at Lance, who only grinned slightly as he let the wire drop to the other’s side.

“I was trying to talk to you!” he huffed, clearly annoyed at him.

Keith wrapped up his earphones and made a disgruntled sound in acknowledgement. It could have meant anything from ‘what’ to ‘fuck off’.

“I was asking if you were going to Hunk’s party tomorrow night.”

He tensed slightly, casting a sideways look at his running partner, who’s expression remain curious rather than mocking.

“No.” Keith said curtly, turning his gaze away.

“Keith-”

“I’m busy.”

“No you’re not! Hunk asked you, right? It’s not going to be a big party. Just us and Hunk’s pen pal.” 

Keith stopped in his tracks and Lance turned to face him.

“If I say I’ll go, will you let me listen to my music?”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lance whistled as he slipt down into the passenger seat of Hunk’s newly painted yellow Land Rover, making a show of stretching out his legs. The car had a lot more room than the one he’d been taking his lessons in and for someone one as tall as Lance, the extra leg space was much appreciated.

“Wow, man. How much did the paint work cost you?”

“A lot,” Hunk grimaced. 

He’d spent the most of the school holidays, weekends and some days after school working in his uncle’s restaurant. Pretty much of the whole of his family had inherited a culinary prowess, which put Lance’s ability to make a semi-decent jar-based pasta dish to shame. The result of Hunk’s hard work had been the Land Rover, which he later had painted a yellow that bordered on gold and the Cuban grinned at the thought of how much it looked like his friend’s yellow lion.

“Don’t spare the details, Hunk.” Lance said sarcastically, winking and pointing finger guns out of the lowered window at some cute girls from his bio class.  
Hunk sniggered when one of the girls, who had been the subject of his friend’s unreciprocated attention for the past two weeks, rolled her eyes and turned back to the group.  
Lance ignored him.

“Oh, by the way, Keith’s changed his mind. He’s coming tomorrow.” He said neutrally, avoiding Hunk’s knowing gaze.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder what changed his mind.”

It was at that moment that Lance’s phone pinged in his hand and he wasted no time when he pulled up his contacts. Blade had sent him a picture, a selfie, and Lance’s heart skipped when he realised that for the first since they started talking to his new friend, that he could now see his head. Or at least partly.

Blade had wrapped a large red scarf around his head a few times, covering almost his entire face and all of his hair. The only thing that remained uncovered was blue-gray eyes, which were accented by the dark circles underneath them. The message read; 

‘You have no idea how much I need this tonight.’

Lance took one last look at the tired eyes in the picture before responding rapidly.

‘I’ll take good care of you. <3 About 10??? I’m doing a family thing.’

‘10’s good. Don’t know if I can wait that long though.’

Lance sucked in a breath, failing to suppress a grin but thankful that Hunk’s attention was fully on the road.

‘It’ll be worth it. Speak to you later xoxo.’

‘K. xoxo’

‘Btw, I love your eyes. Xoxo.’

It was a short while before Blade responded, but when he did, Lance was surprised to see Blade had sent a heat emoji. He’d never come across as an emoji kind of guy.

Hunk cut in before Lance could break into song after Beyonce started playing on the radio. He liked the singer, but he knew the smaller man couldn’t hold a tune if his life depended on it. Luckily the crossroads they had come to had provided him with the perfect chance to interrupt his passenger.

“So am I dropping you at work or at home?”

“Home. I gotta relieve Bianca from her babysitting duties before she shoves her hockey stick so far up my ass that I’ll have a stiff neck,”

“Thanks for the visual, man.” 

Hunk made the turn down the road, which soon became a country lane, when the houses and small shops became few and far between. The outskirts of Altea varied on each side; the rivers that ran through the mountains one the East had always provided more than enough water for the large forest, but the rest of the city remained dry for the most part. Which was why anyone who cared to drive two miles out of the main city would notice how barren the farms were, if the sprinklers weren’t constantly running. 

Altea wasn’t technically a desert, the long Summer droughts are what prompted the McClain’s to expand on their livestock rather than rely heavily on the crops. Although they still had one or two well-tended pastures and a vegetable patch, Meadowstone Farm hadn’t been the cities main food source for over half a century, when the village-turned town had started to thrive into the city it would become.  
In some ways, Lance wondered if he’d been bereft of a life outdoors, working with him close-knit family and having fun despite the hard work and long hours. But as he’d gotten older, he had become more and more involved in other hobbies, and his brother and sisters could all diversify into whatever careers they wanted, without being tied to the farm. 

Nevertheless, most people who drove down the long, bumpy dirt track towards the large, rustic farmhouse couldn’t help but feel nostalgic when they saw the chipped white paint on the wooden walls and the abundance of potted plants. The thick layers of snow that covered the ground made the acre seem endless.

Lance was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely noticed when Hunk stopped the car and after a quick thank you and a promise the bring alcohol to the party, he ran inside, bracing himself against the auditory assault that was to come.

 

No matter how many extensions the farmhouse had received over the years, there never seemed to be much space between Lance and his siblings. Even with the eldest two having left home, he found himself feeling cramped. When he was younger, this had been comforting, and he rarely had a nightmare or slept in his parents bed when he was sharing a room with his younger brother, Raul. Despite the three year age gap, Lance had been especially close the now fifteen-year-old, and all their fighting had been playful. But when his eldest sister, Josephine, moved out four years ago with her twins, Lance’s mother had decided that it was time for the fourteen-year-old to have his own space. Looking back, the fact he had somewhere at least semi-private was a blessing, seeing as around that time he found out the benefits of not having to share a room with a sibling. Mainly the fact that if shoved one of his grandmother’s old walking sticks under the door handle, he didn’t need to worry about being caught in a compromising position.

Lance thought about going up to his room, but the sudden feeling that something was off knawed at his stomach.

“Bianca?”

The house was too quiet. Especially when he’d been expecting his four younger siblings to be home.

“Bee? You in here?”

He stepped silently in the living room, eyeing up the sofa, with its pillows scattered and a blanket strewn on the floor. Lance barely suppressed a grin and braced himself, just as he felt the sudden weight on his back, as Raul landed on top of him. He staggered, leaning forwards, managing to keep his balance as he was taken from the front by two girls, both brunettes with tanned skin. Despite being only ten and eleven, years of play fighting with each other had left them with an impressive amount of strength despite their size.

“Shit!”

Lance yelled, as he staggered backwards into the wall, laughing as he heard the breath knocked out of his brother, who still clung to his back. It was then that he felt a leg hook around his knee and he buckled, falling to the floor with his brother and two sisters, whilst Bianca stood with a triumphant grin, her hair tied back in a ponytail.

“You know, it’s a good thing I didn’t have my laptop with me,” he huffed, sitting up and readjusting Zoe’s ponytail, which had come loose in the chaos. The eleven-year old patted her head until she was satisfied that her brother had tied it properly, before hopping up and running into the hallway.

“Yeah.” Raul scoffed, helping Lance to his feet. “How’re you going to watch porn then?”

Bianca made a face, but grinned.

“You’re one to talk. Remember the shit we used to find on the family computer before you got your own laptop?”

“And before I taught you the miracle that is incognito mode?” Lance jibed, wincing at the memory of his mother sitting the two boys down and lecturing them on how disgusting those sites were, and how much worse it would have been if the younger two had signed on to the computer and found the site, which had been saved to favourites.  
Of course, Lance hadn’t been the one to search for the website. He had his own laptop, which was password protected, if he ever felt the need to rub one out. But lately he’d found that he only needed to text a certain gamer to be filled with enough fuel to get his motor running.

Raul cleared his throat and nodded his head towards the little girl, a ten-year-old, that clung silently to Lance’s arm, watching her older brothers and sister with growing interest. Lance ruffled her hair with his free arm.

“Mimi’s heard worse coming from you!”

Mia was the youngest of the seven children, if you didn’t include Josephine’s three infants, Florence and Lucas, the five year old twins, and Sophie, the three year old. Even as a toddler, she’d been quiet, and shy, clinging to her siblings for comfort. Especially Lance.

Bianca rolled her eyes at the two boys and grabbed her shoulder bag from where she’d dumped it on the floor.

“I’ve got homework to do, so...” 

“No problem, we’ve got this!”

Bianca smiled in thanks and made her way up the stairs, each step creaking as she went.

This was the normal routine for the McClain’s, now that Alicia had gone to live on her college campus. Bianca and Raul went to a seperate high school from Lance, the one that he had left when he was only two months into his first year. It was closer than Altea High, just a few miles away, across empty country lanes with no traffic to slow them down. As a result they probably arrived home over an hour before the eldest would return, at which point they’d go off to study or take a nap while Lance tried to do his share of his studies whilst keeping a watchful eye on his younger sisters, who were currently in the process of building an igloo in the snow.

Deciding the two girls would be fine left playing in the garden by themselves for a while, Lance crept to the door on the other side of the living room before knocking gently. He listened for a response but wasn’t surprised to be met by silence, and he pushed the door open slowly. 

As he’d expected, his grandmother sat in her armchair, staring out of the window at the falling snow and the two girls that revelled in it.

“Mima?” Lance mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. He was about to repeat himself when he heard the woman speak, voice small and slightly croaky as she turned to look at him.

“Nicolas?” Her eyes let on to the growing confusion behind them. The confusion that had been growing slowly for the past two years, and Lance couldn’t help but sigh, trying to steady the sinking feeling in his stomach. He looked too much like his father.

“Dad’s at work, Mima... He’ll be home later.” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and crouching down in front of her, taking a small, bony hand in his and running a thumb over the top of the knuckles, brushing against the wedding ring that she still wore, despite his grandfather’s death ten years earlier.

He allowed her to study his face, like she had done for increasingly longer periods in the passing months. Eventually her eyes softened and the corners of her lips moved upwards into a warm smile. She looked more like the Mima he’d grown up with when she did this.

“Lance...” She said, squeezing his hand. “Is it time to make dinner?”

“Yep,” He grinned, moving his arm so that she could use it to pull herself up. With the other, he pulled her wheelchair from its place in the corner, but she waved her hand in dismissal and reached for he walking stick.

Despite the dementia, his mother had emphasised the importance of keeping her mother-in-laws brain active. Puzzles, riddles and books had helped considerably, but it would only slow the illness down so much. Cooking and gardening were what she responded to the most, asside from her grandchildren, and the matriarch refused to let anyone else cook for her. She was still the ruler of the kitchen.

Lance opened the door, glancing out of the window seeing the girls were now soaked through from their games in the ice and he realised he’d need to call them in soon, before his mother complained about them getting too cold.

Magdelena was small, only standing at little over five-foot, but she over the years she’d developed the habit of hunching as she walked, making her seem even tinier. Her long grey hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore a green cardigan and a dark green skirt, which trailed down to her ankles. She’d slipped on some black pumps as she made her way to the kitchen, with Lance watching her steadily. He didn’t have to worry about her in there. That was her stage, and with food, she was still as sharp as a whip. Lance allowed himself to smile, despite the ache in his chest. She was starting to not recognise him, and that was more painful than realising who she had mistaken him for.

As far as Lance thought, the similarities between him and his father stopped at physical appearances, and he was baffled by how the son of two people as sweet and family-centred as his dad’s parents could ever raise someone so... twat-ish.  
Lance liked to think he was more like his mother; sweet, funny and good-natured. She was the lead nurse in Altea’s hospital and was planning on completing her residency, so she could become a doctor. His dad resented the idea, but the eldest son couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride that Julieta McClain; mother, grandmother and hero, was his mama.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith flopped down on his bed, groaning as he took the weight off of his aching feet. He longed for nothing more than to put on his goggles and kill a few Galra’s in the name virtual humanity/alienity if that would do anything to ease the stress headache.

It had all started when he got a text-reminder from Shiro that he had to stop by Coran Smythe’s office and Keith had dejectedly stalked off to the counsellor’s office with his tail between his legs. He’d thought of a dozen excuses not to stop in, but none of them would stall the inevitable for long and all of them would lead to an abundance of questions that he’d have answer. Like; ‘Keith, why didn’t you tell us you had an emergency dental appointment’ or ‘Keith, why did you stab yourself in the foot so you had to go to hospital’. 

Coran had been painting a small figurine of a soldier when he’d walked in and dropped himself onto one of the bean bags. Nothing could make a bean bag look dramatic.

“Ah! Keith! I was just applying the finishing touches to this limited edition World War Two French soldier! Don’t you find it fascinating that-”

“No.” Keith had said, flatly, keeping his arms folded. He was well aware that he probably looked like a stroppy twelve year old, but he was too far into his sulking to care by that point.

Keith answered Coran’s long-winded questions in as little detail as possible without prompting Coran to ask for more. Had he not mentioned the fact that Allura was moving in, he probably would have gone home as worry-free as he could ever be, but he’d had to open his mouth. Not only did this reveal have the counsellor asking a stream of questions, in addition to the seven side-stories of all the roommates he’d ever had and how much the Housing Act had changed since he was a child, Coran had put new thought into Keith’s head. One that would plague him until he had the resources to do something about it.

Shiro was growing up.

Sure, he’d always been mature for his age, and Keith hadn’t seen him go through his teenage years, but he was finally settling down in a serious relationship, possibly laying down the foundations for his future family. They’d move in, maybe buy a bigger house together, get married, have a couple kids... And the bigger picture had got Keith thinking.  
How the hell was Shiro supposed to do that when he had his kid brother under his care? Sure, Keith was a couple months short of turning eighteen and he’d been taking care of himself ever since he was nine, but his mere presence in the apartment was bound to get in the way of his brother’s flourishing relationship. In fact, he’d already demonstrated that by walking in on them having sex the week before. 

The lump that had formed in his throat was hard to swallow and Keith already knew what was coming. Someday soon, maybe a few weeks after his eighteenth birthday, Shiro would probably ask Keith to start looking for his own place. No doubt he’d give him the money to do so, or he’ll pay for his accommodation if he chooses to go to college, but as happy as he was for his brother, and as much as he liked to believe he wasn’t reliant on the people around him, younger brother had decided he couldn’t cope with the idea of his guardian turfing him out. In his mind, there was no choice but to jump before he was pushed. He’d need to find his own place, even if it meant borrowing from Shiro for a little while.

 

Blade trained hard in the gaming session, but he had to admit he was disappointed at Shooter’s absence. He’d always log on later than Keith, but he worked hard, and had pulled ahead of Keith in the game levels. The red paladin could boast that he was a level ninety-eight player, one of the highest in the game, but paladin of the blue lion had pushed ahead in the game, having just turned to level ninety-nine.

The thought of Shooter’s toned abs and hardened thighs made Keith’s mouth water slightly, and he was fully aware of the growing erection that had been threatening to show itself ever since the phone call that morning. He thanked his lucky stars that Shiro and Allura were having their date night out of the apartment and wouldn’t be home for hours, which gave him plenty of space to be as loud and as reckless as he wanted. Despite all this, Keith felt a flutter of anxiety. The stress of the day had been eating away at him, and he craved nothing more than that sweet release and the feel of post-orgasmic euphoria. If only Shooter would get his ass online.

In his restless state, the red paladin tried to ease his nerves with a hot bath, well aware that he might need another one later. He debated shaving his legs but shook the thought away. He’d never done it before and tonight was not the night to cut himself shaving. However he ran a hand along his chin and was pleased to find that there was no stubble.  
He dried his hair and brushed it, before checking his phone for the fourteenth time that hour. 

No new messages.

Having spent the day wondering what to wear, Keith settled on a pair of his usual black skinny jeans, a dark gray vest that cut off just above his waist, musing at the realisation that he had no idea why he bought the top in the first place. But he was glad that he had.  
At the last minute he adjusted a large black scarf to cover is face and hair, aside from his eyes, which he’d sent a picture of Shooter just a few hours before.

It was around that moment, as he was wondering how he should sit on his bed, that Keith heard the family sound of his phone ringing, only frowning when he realised that it was coming from his laptop.

It was ten at night, and he felt his stomach flutter as he saw Shooter’s profile picture, his avatar, on the screen. He accepted the call.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I got caught up in family stuff.” Shooter rambled, adjusting what looked like a balaclava, so like Keith, his features were covered. But from what Keith could see, the other man was flustered, moving his laptop onto something in his room, so it now faced the bed.

“I was going to call you on your mobile, but you’d probably see me better this way, huh?”

Keith said nothing, a sudden, uncharacteristic shyness weighed heavy on his chest.

“Uh, Blade? Buddy? You there?”

“Yeah...” The quieter of the two croaked, before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”  
Shooter seemed to grin, or at least Keith assumed he was, as his eyes took in the sight before him. He’d spent hours staring at the risky selfies the other guy had sent and even longer listening to his voice. But somehow, seeing him animated, made everything come crashing down to reality.

“You sure you want to do this?” Shooter asked as he pulled his shirt over his head, and Keith’s heart hammered against his ribcage, face heating up and he had the itch to remove his own clothes.

“Yeah, I just... I’ve never... I don’t know what to do.” He admitted, glancing down at his keyboard. It wasn’t too late to make up an excuse.

“Well... I could always tell you what to do. If that makes things easier?” Shooter’s tone was part playful and part soothing, as he perched on the edge of his own bed, studying Blade’s face for any signs of distress, and Keith warmed at the thought that the blue paladin was as caring on camera as he was on the phone.

“I think...” Keith said, feeling a new found confidence sweep over him. “You should tell me what you want me to do...”

Shooter’s eyes widened and Keith could make out the hint of a blush where the balaclava hadn’t quite covered his cheek.

“You could start by taking off your shirt...”

“Like this?” Voice innocent, eyes watching for his audience’s reaction, he moved onto his knees, stretching so that the top rose further up his torso, revealing more of the pale skin underneath. He dropped his arms and slowly pulled the top over his head, careful not to disturb the scarf. Biting his lip, his gaze shifted back to the camera, making sure it seemed like he was making eye contact with his newfound friend.

“Yeah, like that, baby...” Shooter swallowed, eyes taking in every inch of Keith’s chest. “Now take off your jeans...”

“Only if you take yours off first.” Keith purred, hands lingering on his belt as he slowly undid the buckle, making a show of pulling the leather through the hoops. He watched as Shooter raised an eyebrow, dark blue eyes holding a devilish glint.

“Mm, looks like you’re getting more confident...” He said as he stood up from the bed, taking a couple steps towards the camera as he slowly removed his own jeans, so he was stood in only his boxer briefs. A large bulge pressed where his erection strained against the fabric. “You know, if I was there, I’d reward you for that... For being so good...”

Keith groaned, practically ripping his jeans away, taking his socks off with them as he lay on the bed. The webcam would give the other the perfect view of Keith writhing on the bed, clearly hot and bothered.

“How?” he breathed, a hand resting on his thigh.

“Oh, I’d kiss you... Slow at first, but then things would heat up... I’d kiss your cheek, then your jaw and then I’d bite on your neck...”

Blade moaned, moving his hand to press on his growing erection, which had started to ache with the need to be touched. His other hand brushed against his neck as he imagined Shooter’s lips pressed against him, biting at the sensitive skin.

“Yeah... I’d leave marks all over you, so you’d feel it in the morning... I’d kiss your chest and your nipples... I’d keep my hands on your thigh, teasing you... Then I’d pull down your underwear...”

Keith didn’t hesitate. Before he could lose his nerve, he pulled his knees up to his chest, pulling the fabric off and giving Shooter a view of his ass. As he dropped his legs, he revealed his large erection, red with the need to come.

“And- Fuck me, you’re bigger than I thought!” His sultry tone disappeared as his viewer stared in awe at Keith’s naked body. 

“Hey, you’ve seen mine...”

“Right, right, fair enough...”

He stared at the screen as desperate hands pushed the boxers down to the floor and Keith gawped at the sight. Any suspicion that the gamer had been stuffing his underwear to seem bigger had gone out the window as Shooter’s cock was stood at full attention, dripping precum. It was perfectly thick and long, without being off-putting-ly big, and it made the darker haired one’s mouth water. 

“You’re... Woah...”

“You like it baby?”

“Yeah... Yeah, I... Wow.” Taking a minute to compose himself, he willed his earlier confidence back into his voice. “Shooter... You want to know what I’d do if you were here? I’d... I’d suck on the tip of your dick and stroke the rest of you, hard. I’d take all of you in my mouth until I couldn’t fit anymore and-”

“Blade...” Shooter gasped, using his hand to match the actions and the pace that Keith described, sitting back on the bed. “Mm...”

Keith moaned, gripping his own cock and setting steady pace as he threw his head back onto the pillows.

“Ah... Ah! Nnf, that’s feels so good...” He moaned, getting off on the sounds of his laptop.

“Spread your legs for me baby. I want to see you.”

Doing as he was told, Keith spread his legs wide, so Shooter had a great view of his asshole and leaking cock. Pressing a thumb into the slit, Keith shuddered, wishing he had the warmth of human contact with him.

“You look so good... Wish I was there, so I could eat you out.” Shooter moaned, Keith panting in want. “I’d stick my tongue in your as and stretch you out with my fingers... You’re a bottom right? I’d love to see you taking my fingers... I’d keep going until I hit that spot- woah!”

Keith felt triumphant as he left the other speechless. He’d sucked hard on his own fingers during Shooter’s speach, lathering them up with plenty of spit before he reached down and teased his hole open with his index finger. Shifting awkward to press as far into himself as possible, wincing a little at the intrusion. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stuck his fingers up his ass before. In fact half the time he masturbated while teasing the puckered ring of muscle. But that didn’t mean he was met with comfort each time.

“Oh, Shooter... More, please, more!” He moaned, adding a second finger and fucking himself as far down onto knuckle as he possibly could, feeling his wrist ache. Not for the first time, he wondered how much easier it would be with a dildo. Or a vibrator. 

“Holy shit... You’re so hot, baby... So so hot!”

“Want you inside me... Want to come so bad!”

“I know baby, me too! Keep going... Imagine it’s me fucking you, so hard and so deep. I’d hit that spot over and over again- Ah - And I’d... Nn, I’d hear you moan-”

“Ah, ah! Don’t... Don’t stop! I need this so bad! I need you so bad! Mmf! Please... Please, let me come!”

Keith watched, mouth hanging open as Shooter fucked his hand relentlessly, feral and eyes full of lust.

“Come for me, baby, come hard for me-”

That was all it took. Keith saw white, and he couldn’t hold back the wave that washed over him. Back arching of the bed, toes curling in pleasure, he could hardly breath as he screamed out Shooters name. His stomach was covered in his own warm and sticky come, and in the background, he could hear a string of profanities as Shooter met his own orgasm. All he could do was lie there and catch his breath, waiting for his vision to return.

“You awake? Hey... Hey, Blade, come back to me, Kitten!”

Rolling onto his side, the red paladin gave an embarrassed half smile as he pulled a towel over himself, heart still hammering impossibly fast.

“I’ve never... I’ve never come like that before. That was...”

“Amazing? Yeah, I thought you were too,” Shooter grinned, chest flushed red and come still trickling down his abdomen. He dabbed at it with a tissue.

Keith laughed, feeling giddy and tired at the same time.

“... Can we do this again sometime?”

“Dude, I wasn’t about to give you up that easy.” A grin shone in the blue paladins eyes. “Just give me a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then. ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed chapter four! Chapter 5 will be out soon, in which not only will we have more sassy Pidgeons, but also Jealous!Lance, more smexy times and... The arrival of purple!Lucius Malfoy (aka Lotor) :D Also!


	5. Pride and Prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Thank you all for being so patient! Here is Chapter 5! I literally finished it less than ten minutes ago, so I apologise if it seems rushed!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

When Shiro received the text from the school that morning, Keith hadn’t been overly shocked to learn that they were having a snow day. What did take him surprise was the fact that the cancellation had nothing to do with the gridlocked traffic or the high alert adverse weather warning that had come through on the news the day before.  
Varkon, the school’s head of security and maintenance, had been the first to arrive on sight at five am, only to find the power had been cut out. It didn’t take much of an inspection to work out that the pipes had burst during the night and most of the lower level classrooms were damp and cold.  
Long story short; no heating, no running water and no electricity meant that Altea High was closed pending repairs to the plumbing and one hell of a rewallpapering job.

Keith had considered rolling over and trying to get some more sleep, but the thought was dismissed as soon as it was formed. Once he was awake, he was awake, and no amount of willpower would change that.  
So he’d dragged himself out of bed and went straight to the kitchen, but couldn’t work up an appetite for anything they had in. It would all require at least ten minutes of cooking and another ten minutes of cleaning. And being in the apartment only reminded him that he might be leaving soon.  
Finally he made his way back to his bedroom, logging on to his computer and checking to see who was online.

No one. Not even Pidge.  
Keith frowned but closed his laptop, suddenly disturbed by the realisation that he no longer played the game for solitude, but for company, and he missed his online friends when they were absent.

That was when he’d began thinking of Shooter, and the fun they’d had the night before, wondering if he had already peaked on how much pleasure was possible. It wasn’t that he hated masturbating. After all, he was seventeen, two months short of his eighteenth birthday. But over the last two years, he’d found that the build up had always felt better than the climax, and most masturbatory acts had been disappointing to say the least.

Until last night. 

He’d suddenly felt good in his own hand, prompted by Shooter’s encouragement and instructions, and he longed for that feeling again. Not so much the feeling of wanting someone, but the feeling of being wanted himself. The blue paladin made him feel human again. Like he wasn’t some kind of out of place backstory character, or simply Shiro’s brother. And Keith found himself wanting to thank Shooter, and maximise the fun they had. There was no doubt that their late night sessions were going to be habit forming.  
So that was why Blade now sat anxiously in a cafe across the street from Altea’s fanciest sex shop. The only thing that laid between him and the blacked out windows with the red suggestive lettering of 'Pampered' was a road, a fountain, a few mingling pedestrians, tourists, and Keith’s own self-consciousness. He bit into the sandwich he’d ordered and glanced across the road. It was unlikely someone would even see him enter, let alone recognise him. It’d take seconds to disappear behind the doors. But even then, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

He swallowed the last bite of his meal, his anxiety making it taste bitter and dry. This was it. He had to do it. 

Grabbing his bag, Keith kept his head down as he made his way across the street, looking in both directions to see if he could spot any familiar faces. At nine in the morning on a snow day? Most of his schoolmates would probably be in bed. Swallowing, deciding standing outside of a sex shop, blushing looked more conspicuous than just walking in, he pulled his hair in front to shield his face from the side and he stepped into the store.

 

The first thing hit him was the strong scent of sweet perfume, that Keith could swear he could taste. It smelt like strawberries and cinnamon. Then the bright colours of the room hit him with such a force that he had to hold his breath to keep from laughing. Shelves upon shelves lined with dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, nipple clamps, cock rings and harnesses lined the walls, all varying in colours, sizes, materials and textures. In one section, there were racks of clothing, for men and women. Some looked almost innocent; dresses that were short, but revealed nothing too extreme, lined with a faux fur. Others were downright BDSM porn star material, with leather straps and harnesses, thigh high boots... Keith didn’t really think of himself to be into that kind of thing, but he had to admit, the leather boots and catsuit looked pretty cool. It wasn’t a gimp suit, thank god, and probably wouldn’t look out of place in a punk rock shop or even a leather outlet, but it caught his eye. But he shook the thought away. There was no way that he had the necessary bust to fill it out and he’d probably look silly dressed like that anyway. Still, he had his whole life to find out what his tastes were.

Keith avoided eye contact with the cashier, who was in the middle of eating a bagel and reading, as she smirked at his discomfort. Clearly she’d seen people as embarrassed as he was, but it still seemed funny. Just as he was looking at a pair of handcuffs, more out of curiosity than anything else, he heard a voice behind him, sickeningly smug, and highly amused.

“Wow, I’d never have put you down for a masochist!”

He span round, sputtering, dropping the handcuffs. Keith probably looked as red as his lion as Pidge smiled innocently at him.

“Hi,” She said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Pidge!” He hissed, trying to draw as little attention from the cashier as possible. “What are you doing here?!”

“Following you, duh.” She shrugged, picking up an egg shaped thing and inspecting it. “I was checking out this gadget shop that opened down the street and saw you run here.”  
Pidge replaced the item, taking stock of the room with interest, but showed no hint of embarrassment. Unlike Keith, who stood like a statue, eyes wide, willing himself to disappear into thin air.

“You can’t just follow someone into a sex shop! It’s not... I mean it’s... You just can’t!”

Pidge just shrugged again and resumed to looking at the price tags.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing-”

“Are you looking for something for Hunk’s party?”

“No!”

She smiled, but this time there was no mockery in it. Just curiosity.  
“Look, I’m not an expert on sex or whatever, but it’s not wrong to want to try stuff out. I mean Matt’s been with guys, girls and-” 

“Pidge...”

“Fine. But all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be ashamed about something like this. I’m not really a people person, but even I can tell you feel guilty about something!”

Keith swallowed, wondering if he could bribe his friend into keeping her mouth shut. But he realised, with sudden fondness, that Katherine Holt had always kept his secrets and had never made him feel less than normal. Neither of them felt comfortable in social situations, and Pidge often ended up putting her foot in her mouth when she talked to people, but she’d never gotten anyone other than herself into trouble with her babbling. He could trust her.

“... I don’t really know what I’m looking for.” the red paladin mumbled, pretending to read one of the posters.

“... Is it for yourself?” She asked, taking a step in the direction of the vibrators. Pidge had never been bothered by situations that would have most people running in embarrassment.

“... Sort of... I guess.” Coughing, Keith followed her, trying avoid her searching look.

“Wait, are you seeing someone? Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have hacked into their computer months ago!”

“We’re not together, we’re just friends.” He ignored the speech marks she made in the air with her fingers. “We... We’ve only known each other for a week... Just over a week. And we’ve never met up.”

Pidge’s eyes suddenly widened in shock, and excitement. 

“Sharp-Shooter? The guy we met on that Galra occupied planet?”

Keith glanced over his shoulder at the cashier, who simply looked confused and went back to reading her book.

“Yeah... We’ve been talking a lot lately and... Well... One thing led to another.” His face felt red, but he felt thousands of tiny moth wings brush against the walls of his stomach at the thought of the other gamer. “We both have a competitive streak and he’s sweet, I guess... I like him a lot.” 

“Yeah, but Keith, Shooter is-”

“Excuse me.”

They both turned to look at the cashier, who was looking Pidge up and down suspiciously.

“How old are you?” She asked. Although her tone wasn’t unfriendly, it held a serious tone that made Keith wonder if he’d done something wrong.

Pidge was the first to fish her hand into her pocket and pull out an ID card. The cashier studied it and handed it back to her, turning to Keith who quickly showed his own ID. Pidge had made them back when the two had wanted to see a rated eighteen movie the year before. According to the cards, the two were nineteen and willing donate their kidneys.

“Sorry about that!” The lady bubbled, smiling again, “It’s mandatory, sorry to bother you!”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the store clerk had moved back to her seat and resumed reading, Keith turned back to his friend.

“What were you saying?”

It was Pidge’s turn to go quiet as she searched Keith’s face for any sign of hurt. There was something that had changed. Matt would probably be able to tell what it was, but something familiar shone in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen since he’d first moved back to Altea. Maybe it was hope, or relief, or maybe even joy, but whatever it was, Shooter had returned that feeling to the paladin, and the realisation made her want to scream out the obvious.

But what would that do?

She quickly analysed and assessed the situation, coming up with the conclusion that there was only two likely routes that the revelation would lead to: One; Keith and Lance would realise that their online personas said a lot about their true selves and they’d bond. Or two; Keith would lose the trust he had in the Cuban and resent him even more. She chewed on her lip. Computers were far easier than people.

“Shooter’s your competition.” She said, giving in. “I mean that’s got to add something to your bedroom activities right?”

To her surprise, Keith laughed, loud and genuine.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took nearly an hour for Keith to choose what he wanted he was glad that the store offered an option of an unbranded bag, so he wouldn’t have to hide it on his way home. And Pidge’s suggestions had been more helpful than he’d anticipated, and he was suddenly grateful for company.

As he turned to head for the door, he gaped as he realised she had bought something too.

“It’s not what you think.” Katie stated in a matter of fact tone. “I’ve had a theory I want to test out. It is purely scientific and objective.”

Keith had to suppress a grin but he believed her. After all, she’d done stranger things in the name of research. 

The two parted at the cafe he had sat in earlier, and Keith began the two mile walk it would take to get back home. Despite the gritters and the mid-morning rush, the icy pavements still threatened to trip him up with each step, and he suddenly regretted not wearing shoes with a better grip.  
Clutching the bag close, suddenly very aware of its contents, Keith allowed himself to peak inside, a blush creeping up to his cheeks as he saw the box and the neatly folded clothes. Maybe it was too soon to suggest bringing toys into their virtual sex life, given the fact that they’d only done it once and neither of them wanted to show their faces. Although the gamer had always been the one to surprise Keith with his confidence, and suggestions. Hell, Shooter had always been the one to take their little game a step further. But would that mean Keith’s idea would be welcome? He felt a little dizzy at the thought of being rejected. Maybe he’d get labelled as a slut. Or maybe he’d take things too far.

Keith stopped abruptly in the middle of the pavement, barely registering the disgruntled complaints from the person who’d nearly walked into him from behind. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he started scrolling through his messages with Shooter, but this time, instead of reading the other’s messages, he read his own. For the first time, he realised how much he depended on their friendship... If that’s what it was. Every time Keith needed a shoulder to lean on, he’d immediately called Shooter. If he’d had bad day and needed someone to rant at, he’d called Shooter. In fact, even if he’d had a good day, he’d called Shooter.

Staring at the messages, the warmth from the responses and the personal details Keith had rarely shared with anyone, he realised something, which left his mouth dry, his heart hammering and his stomach aching;

He cared what Shooter thought of him.

The realisation sent Keith’s thoughts into a supernova, and he began walking again, faster this time, to burn off some of the adrenaline that had welled deep inside. How had he not seen it before? He didn’t love Shooter, or at least he wasn’t in love with him. Keith had always kept his ability to fall in love locked up and barricaded within himself ever since he was fourteen and had realised that love wasn’t always reciprocated. But... He cared. If Shooter vanished, or criticised him, he would care. And that was the last thing Keith wanted.

He couldn’t rely on one person like that. He couldn’t set himself up for a fall again. But at the same time, Keith couldn’t bring himself to shut his new friend out. Not after he’d been so open, so accepting of his scar and of his less-than-friendly attitude. The bag felt heavy in his hands. Just because he bought it, didn’t mean he had to use it with the blue paladin. Even before he’d met him, Keith had thought about buying something like this. No. He’d keep it for himself. And if Shooter ever suggested using toys? Well, at least they’d be close at hand.

 

Keith checked the map on his phone again and cursed. Despite the having been to Hunk’s home many times before, it had been nearly two years since he’d been there and he was no longer sure what the house number was. All he remembered was that it was a detached home, with three floors if you included Hunk’s attic bedroom, a neatly trimmed front lawn and a garage with a basketball hoop overhanging the door. But until now, Keith had never noticed how similar all the homes in the suburbs of Altea actually were. It didn’t help that the sat nav on his phone seemed set on trying to get him to the nearby coffee house.  
As he turned the corner, he groaned as he met another row identical houses, with no distinguishing features or signs of a party and he was already forty minutes late.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled, pulling his bicycle off of the road and onto the pavement as he took out his phone. Shivering as the cold wind bit into his cheeks and ran down his neck, Keith scrolled through his contact list.

“Hey, where are you?” Pidge said loudly, over the hum of voices and laughter in the background. “Did you get distracted by your new plaything or-”

“I’m lost,” Keith cut her off, hoping that no one had heard her. Swallowing his pride he went on. “What’s Hunk’s house number again?”

“Aren’t you with Lance?” Confusion had made its way to her voice.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“He’s running late too. I guess he must have missed the bus or something.”

“I haven’t seen him. What’s the house number?”

“Hold on a second.” The buzz of background noise went down until it was silent, and Keith heard the distinct sound of a door being opened. At least he wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. “four-hundred-and-twelve.”

Keith glanced at the nearest house.

“Crap, I’m about two hundred houses away. I’ll be there soon.”

“‘Kay, see you later.”

As he hung up, he pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he started pedalling. It had been minus three degrees when he’d left the apartment, and the temperature just kept dropping. Cycling fast, he felt his thighs and calves burn, which wasn’t unpleasant or unwelcome. He counted the houses as they flew by.

‘Three-hundred-and-forty-nine, three-hundred-and-fifty, three-hundred-and-fifty-one...’

Checking both directions as he went to round the corner, he let the momentum carry him, only noticing the ice patch at the last second. He yelped as he squeezed the breaks, which did nothing as he skidded across the road, planting his foot down so hard that a sharp pain ran through his foot and up his ankle. The bike hadn’t slowed down any, when the front wheel crashed into the high curb, and Keith’s stomach hit handlebars with such force that he suddenly felt sick. But he kept going, the bike coming with him as he felt himself lifted out of the seat. He barely had time to put his hands out and brace for the impact before he hit the pavement hands first, knees second and forehead third, rolling onto his side in a way that made him cry out as stabbing pain came in to his shoulder. For a moment he couldn’t breath, and Keith gasped for air, arms wrapped around his stomach, he felt the dizziness as a splitting headache threatened to make him lose consciousness and a sob escaped from him as he lay in a heap in the frost. It was all he could do to keep from crying.

“Oh shit!” A warm voice, ebbed with panic sounded in the distance, along with hurried footsteps crunching underfoot as someone ran towards him. He barely registered the sound, even as warm hands cupped his face. “Keith?! Keith, wake up! Shitshitshit!”

Keith opened his mouth to tell the stranger he was okay but it came out in a quiet mumble.

“Mm-awerk...”

“What? What was that?”

“I’m... I’m awake...”

“Keith, open your eyes, you’ve hit your head!”

Reluctantly, Keith complied, trying to focus on the owner of the voice, but everything spun out of focus with such force that he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

“Did you hurt your neck? Or your back? I saw you fall but-”

“M’gonna... I think m’gonna...”

“What? What’s happening?”

Before he could answer, Keith began coughing and swallowing, trying to keep the nausea at bay. But even as he tried to keep himself from throwing up, he felt someone’s arms around him and he was suddenly lifted to his knees, which stung as they took the pressure of his weight. He could feel himself start to fall forward, but managed to place his good arm in front of him, the pain in his stomach breaking his resolve as he gagged and started to vomit.

“Let it out, buddy. I’ve got you.”

The warm hands returned and Keith felt his hair being pulled back, away from his face. The world seemed to come into focus and he realized he was vomiting into a drain. In the corner of his eye he could see his bike laid in a crumpled heap by a tree a couple meters away.

When the last of his stomach contents came up, he sat gasping for a while, feeling the weight of a jacket being wrapped around him.

“Are you alright?”

Finally, after a few seconds of silence and laboured breathing, Keith turned, having figured out the owner of the familiar voice by now.

“Yeah... Yeah, I’m alright... I think...”

Lance’s eyes seemed to take in every inch of him before he scooped up some of the snow into a ball and held it out to Keith, who stared at it, not quite understanding why he was being invited to a snowball fight.

“Press it to your head, it’ll keep the swelling down.”

He took the makeshift ice pack and pressed it against the forming bump as Lance began to pull out his phone.

“Lance?”

“I’m calling an ambulance. You’ve got a concussion.”

Panic rose in Keith’s stomach as he sat up straighter. Did he look that bad?

“I don’t need an ambulance.”

“Keith, you’ve hit your head and you threw up. You’ve got a concussion!”

“No, I’m fine. My stomach hit the handlebars when I went over. It just hurts, that’s all.”

The cuban eyed him skeptically for a moment but slowly put his phone away.

“... Alright. Anywhere else hurt?”

Keith wriggled his toes, clenched his fist and moved his head and limbs slowly, testing them out for aches and pains.

“My knee, shoulder, elbow and hands... I think there all grazed.”

“With a fall like that?” Lance stood, stepping behind Keith and hoisting him to his feet from under his armpits. “That’s lucky.”

The red paladin felt his face heat up in sudden embarrassment. Not that he cared what Lance thought of him, but throwing up in front of him was not high up on Keith’s bucket list.

“Thank you... For that,” Keith nodded his head towards the drain and tried to look away from the taller man.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen worse.”

He shivered, looking towards his bike.

“Fuck, the wheel’s fucked.” 

Lance pulled the bike upright and span both the wheels, before placing the chain back on the chain ring. At least seven of the spokes on the front wheel were bent and the rim was buckled slightly, making the tire loose. 

“Yeah... I mean it’ll be alright for now, but it won’t go far.” He wiped his oil stained fingers on the side of his jeans. “Do you want me to call someone to pick you up? Or do you want to call from Hunk’s?”

“I’ll go to Hunk’s.”

“You’ll call someone from there?”

Keith shrugged. “If I’m there, I might as well stay. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”  
That was a lie. Every part of him ached and his palms and head stung where he’d grazed the skin. But nothing was broken. Besides, calling Shiro or Matt wouldn’t be practical, since Keith would refuse to get in either of their cars anyway. No, he’d just have to walk home later, or fix his bike when he got there.  
He heard Lance sigh.

“Jeez, you spent the last two years making excuses not to go to parties and the one time you have a real reason not to go, you’re there.”

Keith huffed, limping over to take the handles of his bike and started pushing it towards the direction of Hunk’s house.

“I had a reason not to go before.” The bike made a semi-decent crutch as he struggled to put weight on his left side.

“Oh yeah? What, were you shaping your mullet, mullet?” Lance walked up next to him, watching his feet and frowning.

He said nothing, pretending to examine the scuff marks on the paint.

“Keith, you can’t keep walking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that. Come on, get on your bike.”

Keith blinked at him. If putting weight on his ankle was causing him to limp, cycling wasn’t going to be any better.

“I can’t ride it, Lance.”

“I know, that’s why you’ve got to get on it.” The Cuban took the handlebars from Keith, stopping and patting the seat. The red paladin gawked at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Aw, come on! I do it for my little sisters all the time!”

Forcing his pride down for the second time that evening, Keith’s resolve broke and he mounted the bike, at a loss of where to put his hands that didn’t involve touching Lance. But as the bike lurched forwards, he ended up grabbing onto the other man’s arm and placing one around his shoulder, steadying himself. Lance held the bike up with surprising steadiness as he pushed him along, smirking a little when Keith gripped tightly whenever he thought he was going to fall.  
The butterflies that had been in his stomach that morning came back in their thousands and he felt a little giddy, despite himself, at the closeness of his former friend. To any onlookers, it would look like a romantic gesture rather than a necessity, and the thought disturbed and excited him to no end. And under the fabric of Lance’s shirt, Keith could feel the hardness of biceps. He must have started working out or puberty had hit him like a freight train full of metabolic steroids.

“So... What was your excuse?”

“... Huh?”

“For not coming out with... us.”

The hidden question hung silently in the air. Keith had been on outings with Hunk, Pidge and Lance every once in a while, but it had only been when the other two were there that he’d ever agreed to go. Only when he’d had someone to talk to that wasn’t the man who was now helping him.  
He thought about changing the subject. About lying. But Lance would persist, as always.

“You know why.”

“No, Keith, I don’t.” Lance went quiet all of a sudden, not looking at him. Keith tried to focus on the numbers on the mailboxes as they passed by, willing for the conversation to be dropped. Had he been with anyone else, it might have been. “... Is it because of that night you kissed me at that party?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another night, another party, and Lance had insisted on dragging his friends to some poor bastard’s house who hadn’t expected thirty people to show up. Music blared from the speakers so loud that Keith could feel the vibrations in his chest as most of the partygoers swayed on a small, makeshift dance floor, where the sofas and tables had been pushed to the side to make room. The ground underneath him felt sticky with the amount of drinks that had been spilt, and somewhere in the building, Pidge and Hunk were arguing over the merits of upgrading to a new games console.

“Hey,” Lance’s breath tickled his ears and neck and Keith span round to face him, smiling and moving closer, so the taller boy could hear him. And because he craved the other’s closeness.

“Hey, where were you? I looking for you,”

Lance laughed, wrapping his arms around him pulling him close in a hug that made Keith want to melt.

“I was getting a drink. You looked like you were having fun,” 

He kept moving the rhythm of the music, even during the embrace, and to his delight, Lance had started dancing too. Dancing with him.

“You were watching me, huh?”

“I couldn’t help it! Do you wanna go outside?”

Keith felt his hand being taken up in Lance’s own and he was gently pulled through the crowd of dancing teenagers and outside into the back garden. Despite the warm, Altean summer, the sudden chill made him shiver and goosebumps ran up his arms. He relished the cool night air, glad to get away from the dancing. It was all a show anyway and Keith’s ears felt numb from the deafening music, which could still be heard as the two walked to the bench at the end of the garden. Lance sat down heavily, stretching his legs, taking up all the room.

“Move over, I want to sit down.”

“Find your own bench then, mullet, I claim this one!” 

“I’ve been dancing this whole time! You were probably flirting with someone and got rejected.”

Lance pouted, feigning hurt.

“But Keith, I’m heart broken! This bench is the only thing in the world that’s stopping me from sinking into a never ending void of despair and-”

“Fine, whatever. You can have the stupid bench.” As he went to sit on the damp grass in front of his friend, strong hands gripped his waist and pulled him into the owner’s lap.

“I was kidding! You could use the bench if you’re seriously thinking about growing a mullet.” Lance started flicking at his hair, which was starting to hang just past his shoulders.

Keith shifted, so he was sat in between Lance’s legs, leaning back so his head was rested on his shoulder. It had always been like this with them. Physical contact and casual flirting had come so naturally, even to Keith, who was usually so withdrawn, that no one in their circle of friends questioned their behaviour. Not even when they’d fall asleep together in a knot of limbs on the sofa whenever they had a movie night. 

Lance’s face was so close to his that Keith could see every detail. The dimples that appear on his cheeks as he laughs, the softness of his brown eyes which shone like stars, the way he pouted his lips whenever he teased him... That’s what Keith was focussed on now. Lance’s lips. They looked so soft and for the last three months, he had wanted nothing more than to feel them on his own. To feel Lance.

He was so focussed on Lance that he didn’t even hear the question that the man in question had just asked. It was all so ideal. It was quiet. They were alone. It was summer’s night. The stars were out. Yes. This was it. This was the moment things would change between them, the moment that their ever-growing friendship would turn into something better. Keith was sure of it. 

Before he could lose his nerve, he did it. He lifted his neck, aimed for his smile and kissed him, softly, every nerve fiber in his body alive and ready for the moment Lance would kiss him back. For a second all he could feel was soft lips on his. Soft, warm and... still.

The warmth left him as he felt Lance pulled away, staring down at him in shock, horror and disgust. Keith would never forget that look. The disgust in Lance’s eyes. He’d seen it so many times before, but he’d never expected to see it from him. Not from Lance. Not from his best friend.

“... What are you doing, Keith?”

“I’m...” Keith could only blink at him, confused. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “... I’m sorry, I...” 

Hands shoved, lightly, but desperately as the body behind him moved to stand, taking a few steps back.

“... I didn’t know you were... I thought you were... You thought I was...”

“Lance, we can forget about it, it was stupid, I was stupid, I didn’t mean to-”

Lance began biting his lip, taking a step back, as if he couldn’t stand still. Like he couldn’t stay.

“I... I’m not gay.” He said, swallowing hard, fixing Keith with a glare. With hurt in his eyes.

“I know, that’s okay, I just... I’m sorry, okay? We can just forget about it!”

Lance stared at him and Keith felt his eyes sting a little with tears that threatened to surface.

“No, Keith. We can’t.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No,” Keith gritted his teeth, trying to keep his anger at a controllable level. “It’s because of what you did after that.”

The bike stopped and Keith wanted nothing more than to disappear. The lump in his throat making it hard to breath.

“Excuse me?” Lance said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t do anything after that. I went home-”

“Bullshit.” Keith spat, growing more and more irritated. “You know what you did, Lance. If you didn’t want to talk about it, why did you bring it up?”

“Keith, I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about... What did I do?”

Something inside of him snapped. A switch had been flipped. The anger he had worked so hard to control over the last year broke through the surface with the power of an atomic bomb.

“You told EVERYBODY. And if that weren’t enough for you, you made me feel like I was... Like I wasn’t normal! Every day at school, every time I saw you, you’d say something!”

“Like what? I didn’t do anything-”

“‘Faggot.’” Keith snarled. “‘Bent.’ ‘Pretty boy’.”

Lance went quiet, avoiding his gaze.

“I... Never called you a faggot.”

“No.” Keith muttered, suddenly deflated. The pain in his stomach from earlier making him wince. “You didn’t. But you didn’t do anything when your friends did.”

Keith felt a twinge of guilt when he saw the shame on his former friend’s face, but he willed the temptation to apologise and take it all back away and placed his good leg down on the ground, so Lance could let go of the handlebars. For a moment he wondered if he could cycle through the pain and get home safely. But Keith was nearly knocked from his seat when he was suddenly pulled into a hug, one that was tight and desperate. If it had been anyone else hugging him, he might have pushed away. But in that moment, something about Lance seemed vulnerable. Keith found his arms tentatively responding, winding gently around the Cuban’s shoulders, in an hug that was meant to emmit comfort rather than intimacy. The feel of the hair pressed against his cheek, the tightness of the arms around him. This wasn’t the Lance he knew, but the Lance he had forgotten.

“I never meant for you to feel like that, Keith... I’m sorry... I thought, you know, after a couple weeks we could be friends again, y’know? Like we could go back to the way we were before.”

Keith said nothing, but something old and buried deep within seemed to shudder inside of him.

“I’m a coward for doing what I did... But I promise, I didn’t tell anyone. I... Someone must have seen us or something. The first thing I did when someone asked me about it was call you!”

Keith frowned. He didn’t remember seeing the missed calls, and he knew why. That night, he’d deleted and blocked Lance’s number. He thanked his lucky stars that he’d never invited the guy to his house during their time as friends, since McClain would have no doubt made an unscheduled, but not entirely unwanted, appearance.

“... Even if I believe that, what about the rest of it? All those times you were just trying to piss me off.”

Something in the way Lance smiled seemed sad, and it made his heart tighten slightly.

“We ripped the shit out of each other all the time before... I thought maybe if I acted like nothing had happened, we’d be like we were back then.”

Keith couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. Did he forgive Lance? No. Not entirely. Not yet, anyway. But misreading a situation and making an idiot of himself not only sounded like him, but it was also something that Keith could relate to.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know... So... Are we friends again?”

The question hung awkwardly in the air, and the red paladin stayed silent, perched on the bike.

“No.” He said finally, grinning when he saw the shock written on the other’s face. “But we can be. If you promise to stop being such an ass.”

“I don’t know.” Lance mumbled, before adding. “That sounds like a big task.”

Keith swatted him, grabbing his arm and shoulder again when the bike suddenly lurched forward.

“Come on. We’re already an hour late.”

 

Hunk’s house was almost identical to his neighbours, but it hadn’t changed much since the last time Keith visited. The garden was still well tended, the windows were spotless and basketball hoop still hung over the garage door, although the net had long since needed replacing.  
The only obvious difference was the extra car in the driveway; a land rover, painted yellow and relatively new took up most of the path as Lance wheeled Keith to the door, helping him down.

“Can you walk?” 

Keith took a careful step, then another and another. His ankle ached, but it was only a dull throb now. Definitely not sprained or broken.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Lance propped the bike up against the garage wall, falling into step next to Keith and opening the door.

“Hunk probably has a first aid kit or something-”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Pidge sauntered over, eyes raking over the grazed bump on his forehead to the tear in his black skinny jeans, where his knees still stung from the scrape along the gravel. “Did you agree to being Shiro’s boxing partner again?”

“I came off my bike,” He said sheepishly, noticing how a couple of the other party goers, who stood in small groups in the living room, clearly taking note of the state Kogane was in.

Hunk bundled in to the room, eyes widening when he saw the three stood in the doorway.

“Man, Shiro got you good this time. I’ve got some bandaids in the kitchen, come on in,”

Keith rolled his eyes and began limping towards the Samoan, who held the door open for him to pass through. But before he could step through into the large, fully furnished kitchen, a voice, cool and familiar called out to him.

“Keith?”

Keith span, eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the man before him, breaking into a large grin when the sight confirmed what he thought he’d misheard.

“Lotor? Jesus Fuck, what are you-” Before he could finish he felt himself take two large, painful strides forwards as he threw his arms around taller man, who easily lifted him as he pulled Keith to his chest and span before putting him down and holding him out to look him up and down.

“Gosh, look at you! I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t overheard!”

“You mean eavesdropped.” Keith heard Lance mutter but if Lotor heard it, he didn’t seem to care. He just smiled fondly down at him, hands on his shoulders.

“My, my, how you have grown.”

“Me? What about you! Fuck me, you’re... Why are you here? How did you-”

“Come, we’ll talk while we take a look at your head. Would you like a hand?” 

Keith said nothing but allowed Lotor to pull his arm over his shoulder and wrap an arm around his waist, guiding him towards the kitchen.

 

“So how do you two know each other?” Hunk asked, stirring a pot of chili.

“Keith lived next to me, before he moved to Altea. The family who were my neighbours were-” Lotor stopped, glancing at the topic of conversation for approval to continue.

“My last foster family were close with Lotor’s parents. We hung out together all the time before Shiro found me,” Keith smiled fondly at the memory. The two hadn’t gone to the same school, since Lotor’s parents had the money and status to send their son to a private school, but despite them disapproving of their neighbour’s wayward foster placement, who swore, fought and showed no interest in following rules that he didn’t think were fair, Lotor had stubbornly become his friend.

“Yes.” Lotor said, smiling, then pouting as if he was truly hurt. “And then Keith was taken away from me by his brother and we haven’t spoken since.”

“I’m sorry, I... I meant to get in contact, it’s just... It was a lot to take in and by the time I settled, I-”

“Please.” Lotor cut him off, clapping a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “There’s no need to explain.”

“What about you two?” Keith gestured between Hunk and Lotor. “How did you two meet?”

“Well,” Hunk turned to face them, smiling broadly as he tightened the apron around himself. “Lotor’s dad was holding some kind of fancy business conference and put him in charge of hiring a caterer. And who else would he pick than yours truly?”

Lotor laughed, standing up from the counter stool. “Yes. And we stayed in touch. Mostly through novelty postcards and the like.” 

“Lotor started at the college here in September.”

“Really? Fuck, if I’d known, I would’ve called you right away! What are you studying?”

At that moment, Pidge entered the kitchen, followed by Lance, who appeared to be sulking. Keith suspected that he’d been rejected by another girl again.  
The Cuban’s eyes glanced at everyone in the room before landing on Keith, frowning.

“You still haven’t got the first aid kit?” The question was directed at Lotor, who merely smiled at Lance.

“I’m sorry, Leon, I was just caught up talking to Keith. There is a lot to catch up on.”

“It’s Lance!” He snapped, frowning as Lotor managed to reach the first aid kid on the top shelf without using the step. 

He moved back to Keith, setting the kit on the side and emptying its contents, setting aside the bandaids, bandages, antiseptic wipes, medical tape and cold patches. 

“Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.” Keith mumbled. “My shoulder, my knees, my ankle, my head and... And my stomach.” He pressed his hand against his shirt, touching where his scar was.

Lotor suddenly grew concerned, glancing at Keith’s stomach. “Perhaps we should check that out.”

“You might have ruptured your spleen!” Lance blurted out, and Keith’s blood ran cold. Did Lance know? How did he know? Had Pidge told him? “I know a guy. He had a splenectomy.”

“Or...” Lotor said cautiously, eyeing Lance with suspicion and mistrust. “Perhaps not. I’ll see to your head first, Keith.”

“Maybe I should.” Lance said, stepping forward and picking up one of the antiseptic wipes. “My mom’s a nurse. I’ve seen her do this a hundred times.” 

“I see.” Lotor clicked his tongue. “Does that make you a nurse?”

“Are you a nurse?!” Lance’s voice grew louder and more angry as the squared up to Lotor, who simply raised his eyebrows. 

“Guys.” Keith interrupted, growing irritated. “I can do it myself. I just need a little privacy.”

“I’ll stay.” Lotor said, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his good shoulder. “Just in case that head injury turns out to be worse than it looks.”

“Me too-” The Cuban began, but was cut off by Hunk nudging him slightly.

“Lance, I’m fine. Thanks, really. Just... Go enjoy the party.”

“Fine.” Lance spat, glaring at the two men sat at the counter. “I’ll leave you two so you can play doctor.”

The door slammed shut so hard after Hunk and Pidge urged Lance back into the living room, that the spice rack shook. 

“Well.” Lotor said, turning to him. “That was a dramatic exit.”

Keith didn’t respond, other than a nod to confirm that he’d heard Lotor. It had been three years since he’d seen him and the Briton had changed in many ways. One was his height, now towering a foot above Keith, slim and almost as pale as he was. His hair had always been longer than the red paladins, but now it hung down like an ice sheet, nearly reaching his mid-back. The features of his face had gone from round to sharp and well-defined, in a way that reminded Keith of the elves from Lord of The Rings. The similarity between Legolas and Lotor was so striking that he had to try and keep from laughing. 

“So what’s new?” Lotor mused, handing Keith one of the antiseptic wipes. It stung as he pressed it to his grazed knee and he hissed at the sensation.

“Not much. Shiro’s got a girlfriend, and she might be moving in with us. I’m looking at starting the engineering and astronomy course at AU next year.”

“Ah, you still have your heart set on Space then.” Lotor chuckled. “You’ll get in. You have always been able to do anything that you set your mind to. Ambition.”

“Most call it stubbornness.”

“Perhaps,” The Briton grinned. “But it has got you through so much, hasn’t it? Now, take off your shirt. I’m worried about your scar.”

Keith was about to protest, but shrugged it off. Aside from Pidge and Shooter, Lotor was the only friend he had ever told about his scar and its origins. The only person he’d shown.  
As he let the shirt drop to the floor, Lotor hummed, inspecting the pale scar.

“Amazing.”

“I know, it’s healed a lot since you last saw it.” Back when Keith was fourteen, the scar was a deep purple, and prone to become itchy, red and swollen at the edges if he got too hot or used the wrong detergent for his laundry.

“Yes, yes, but I was talking about your six pack! You were a scrawny little thing last time I saw you.”

Keith blushed, laughing and shoving Lotor away playfully.

“Does it hurt? The wound?”

“No. I think I’m just winded.”

Lotor handed Keith his shirt and leaned against the opposite counter.

“Good. Do not take this the wrong way, but I do not much care for your friend. He seemed rather rude.”

“I’m sorry about that,” He apologised. “Lance is usually alright with people.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to me.” Lotor placed both his hands on his shoulders and gazed down at him. “I meant to you. I couldn’t care less what that imbecile thinks of me, but he seems uncomfortable with your sexuality.”

Lotor’s words stung a little, and Keith braced himself against a wave of unwanted thoughts and emotions, as he had done so many times before when it came to Lance. His old friend had been the first person Keith came out to, and had been a rock for him to lean on from the very beginning. Being bisexual, Lotor had always understood Keith’s attraction to men, and the social pressure of telling people.

“He is, but... He’s getting there. He’s trying to understand.”

The taller man looked skeptical, but held Keith close, in a tight embrace as he rested a hand on his hair.

“If you say so. But don’t forget who your friends are... Are you free tomorrow? I’m meeting my girlfriend for lunch, but perhaps afterwards, we can meet for coffee, and have a real catch up.”

Keith leaned back and smiled. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Yes, Anita. We met in our Latin class. Remind me to introduce you two sometime.”

 

To his surprise, Keith found himself enjoying the party, even with the pain in his head and shoulder. None of the damage was permanent but he was sure that he’d be sore for the next few days.  
Hunk’s popularity stemmed from his kind and giving nature, which had gained him many, genuine friends. And at the prospect of the Samoan’s amazing cooking, many had turned up, to mingle, to dance and to eat. It was modest gathering of about seventeen people, most of whom’s names, Keith didn’t remember.

Lotor fell in easily with crowd, as charming as he was, and seemed happy to answer all their questions. Like what Britain was like, what age he was when he moved to America, what he did at college, et cetera. Meanwhile, the red paladin was becoming more and more tired from the social interaction, even if he was having fun. 

He had gone looking for Lance, wanting to clear the air. It was typical that after an argument, that had supposedly marked the beginning of the end of their two-year long feud, they’d found something new to fight over. And he’d meant what he’d said. He was willing to try and be his friend again, even if it would take time. It was a friendship worth saving.

He wound his through the people, and looked everywhere downstairs. He tried the bedrooms (which were empty, To Keith’s sweet relief) and the bathrooms. He checked the garden, although it’d be too cold for anyone to sit out their for long. Finally, he found Hunk, bringing out a batch of homemade brownies.

“Hey, Hunk, have you seen Lance?”

“Sure, he left, like, half an hour ago.”

Keith frowned, glancing at his phone. It was only nine o’clock and Lance was always the last person to leave any social event. 

“Uh... Why?”

Hunk pursed his lips. “I don’t know. He said he was tired and that he’s working tomorrow.”

“Oh... Right, okay. I just wanted to say bye,”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m tired and my shoulders killing me. Thanks for the invite though, it’s been great.”

A warm grin spread across Hunk’s face, and he handed him a clear plastic party bag filled with fudge, brownies and chocolates, no doubt they were all homemade. 

“Any time, man. Thanks for coming. But, uh, will you be alright getting home?”

“I’m sure I’ll-”

“I’ll go with you,” Lotor declared, knocking back the last of his wine in a way that was somehow graceful. “I should probably be heading off soon anyway.”

“It’s a three mile walk, and I won’t get their fast.”

Hunk glanced at the time. “Well, I don’t know about busses, but I could call you a taxi.”

Keith was about to protest, trying to settle the rising fear in his throat, when Lotor spoke up.

“That won’t be necessary. Keith’s bike wouldn’t fit and I should probably walk off that delicious meal.” He patted his stomach for emphasis. “But it has been a wonderful evening. Perhaps I should stop by the restaurant sometime?”

Keith drowned out the polite chatter, suddenly grateful that Lotor was with him. Although he could come across as pompous and arrogant at times, he had never judged him for his phobia, or his sexuality. Or his scar. But regardless of what Lance thought, Lotor was more like an old friend, a brother than a boyfriend. In fact Keith surprised even himself when he realised he never felt that kind of attraction towards Lotor, who had at one time seemed eager to move up a step in their relationship. But those feelings, whatever they had been, had eventually settled back into a friendship, even with the loss of contact.

 

It had taken the better part of two hours to get back home, and Shiro was waiting up for Keith, despite him having said he’d be back later than midnight. But when he saw Lotor, the two had begun talking, and even Shiro was affected by his charm, and offered to give him a lift back to his student accommodation. Any questions about Keith’s rugged appearance had been answered as soon as he’d opened the door, having seen Shiro’s horrified expression and had simply gestured to his bike and said ‘black ice’. Allura was either asleep or at her soon-to-be-old home, but just to be safe, he crept passed the room on his tiptoes before slipping into his own and collapsing onto the bed in a painful heap, sighing at the relief of finally being able to rest his aching feet.

As soon as his phone connected to the wifi, his phone buzzed and pinged at the string of messages. Some were from Hunk and Pidge, asking where he was, which had been sent around the time he’d face dived into the pavement. A couple of them were from Shiro, asking if he knew what time he’d be home and if he wanted him to meet him there and walk home with him. Another was from Lotor, which simply read ‘hey’. He’d sent it after Keith had given him his number, and he saved it into his contacts. And one of them was from Shooter. Keith’s heart hammered, reading the text.

‘Hey. Are u up? Xx’

The message was a couple hours old, but Shooter would no doubt still be awake at eleven at night.

‘Yeah. I was out sorry. You okay? Xx’

A response came through a couple seconds later, which made Keith sit up and lean against the wall.

‘Not really tbh xx’

Keith replied with ‘I’m calling you xx’ before hitting dial. Shooter answered on the third ring, his tone flat, lacking the usual energy and enthusiasm which made Keith grin like an idiot.

“Hey.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“... It’s nothing really. I... I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

Keith sat up a little straighter, placing a pillow behind his back.

“You probably should. Seriously, what’s up?”

“... I might have done something wrong.”

“... Like what? Are we talking buttering both sides of a slice of toast wrong or do you need me to hide a body?”

“No.” Shooter chuckled, but it seemed forced. “Nothing like that... Um... There’s this guy. I’ve liked him for a while.”

Keith’s heat hammered, a sudden anxiety making him feel sick.

“... You haven’t been doing all this stuff with me while you’re seeing someone, have you?”

“What? No! I’d never... I wouldn’t do that. Not to anyone I was with.” 

He relaxed a little, relieved that he wouldn’t be the cause of a break up.

“You sure you don’t mind me telling you? It’s not awkward because of what we... Get up to?”

Keith smiled fondly at the concern. Yes, he loved Shooter, but only as a friend, but he wasn’t in love with him. He’d be sad if he had to end things, but so long as they could still talk, still confide in eachother when he had a problem, then he’d be happy. But he was more afraid of losing the friendship than the fun they had together. He just didn’t like having to depend on someone. It just meant that there was more to lose.

“No, it’s not. We’re just friends... Who help each other out.. But we’re not a couple... Are we?” Keith added, suddenly realising they had never talked about what they were before. And it was entirely possible that Shooter thought they were a couple this whole time.

Shooter laughed, sounding relieved. “No, no we’re not... So you don’t mind-”

“Just tell me, asshole.” Keith said, letting a grin slip into his words, so the other would know that he just had a weird list of insults that he counted as terms of endearment.

“Alright, alright, fine... There’s this guy that I like. And I... I don’t know, I think he hates me.”

“Why would anyone hate you?”

“I know, right?! No, but seriously, if anyone has a reason, he does. I... Kinda... Used to bully him.”

Keith blinked, letting the information slide in.

“You’re a bully?”

“Well... I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just... I wanted his attention! I thought if I stopped picking on him, he’d just stop talking me all together.”

A laugh suddenly erupted from red paladin.

“What?”

“You were like the boy in the second grade who’d pull the hair of the girl he liked!”

Even Shooter let out a chuckle at the comparison.

“That’s a fair point, I guess. The only problem is... He’s sort of with this other guy now, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Feeling a twinge in his shoulder, he shuffled down, letting his sore head rest on the pillows. The room spun a little from the movement.

“You could always talk to him.”

“You’re kidding right? He hates me more than I hate the guy he’s with.”

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“So’s love, but people throw that around like it’s nothing.”

“I guess.” Keith said. “But why can’t you just tell him? If he already hates you, then what is there to lose?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and for a moment the red paladin thought that the phone line had disconnected. But then he heard the sigh, something heartbroken and frustrated. 

“Because it would mean I’d need to come out... I couldn’t keep him a secret, not like you. And I can’t let that happen.”

Keith was genuinely shocked by this information. During their late night sessions, Shooter had been so confident and cocky in the way that made him assume he was like that in every aspect of his life. But maybe only towards girls. If he found women attractive. He hadn’t realised how quiet he had been until Shooter began speaking again, maybe assuming that Keith was waiting for an explanation.

“My dad... He’s homophobic... And he expects his sons to be these big, macho men who look after their family and do great in everything.” He laughed bitterly. “Like he can talk about looking after his family.”

Keith shuddered, having never heard the blue paladin talk like this before. He sounded so broken, like he needed to let out years worth of resentment.

“... Your dad’s abusive?”

There was silence on the other end.

“No. He doesn’t hurt us, or me. In fact... In fact he’s great with my mom, my sisters... My brother.”

“Then why you? Why do you-”

“Because I know he’s... I know he’s cheating on my mom. I’ve known for years... And he knows I know.”

The red paladin wasn’t used to normal family dynamics, but he could feel the other’s heart break through the receiver. He didn’t remember much of his own parents. He didn’t like to think about them. But he did remember the night’s he spent curled up in Shiro’s bed, trying not to listen to their arguments. Each parent would throw any accusation they could think of at one another, and among them, both had accused the other of cheating. It wasn’t until he was older that he understood the words, the betrayal, and he had no idea how Shiro had coped. In fact Keith had no idea which accusations were true and which were false. He wouldn’t put anything passed either his mom or his dad, both were despicable in their own way, whether it was his mother’s alcoholism or his dad’s lack of empathy. Even then, Keith had only Shiro to protect him, to teach him the difference between right and wrong. Maybe his brother remembered a time when their family was functional. 

“Shooter, that’s- You’ve got to tell your mom!”

Keith couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sob on the other end of the phone, but it shocked him, how much he wanted to protect his friend.

“I can’t... My mom would be heart broken, my family would fall apart... And it’d be my fault. He used to tell me that when I’m older, I’d understand... That’s why I’d never do what we do, if I was seeing someone.”

He swallowed, taking in a breath. It sounded like the paladin had known for years.

“Not everyone turns out like their parents...”

“No... I’ll never be like him.”

Keith sighed, trying to find a way to comfort the gamer, but that had never been his strong point.

“Shooter. You’re not like your homophobic asshole of a dad... That’s why you’ve got to stop being a dick the guy you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next chapter will include more from Lance and... We'll find out what was in Keith's 'Pampered' bag ;)
> 
> Thank you again to 'tru goff' for your help with this chapter and for making sure I got my ass in gear! :D


	6. Don't Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning; scenes of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, y'all! This chapter was actually finished a few days ago, but I held off on posting it so I could get a head start on the events of chapter seven! In which... Well. ;) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and I apologise for any spelling errors!

The world came to life in a series of blinks, everything seeming slow and sluggish, sounds were one loud hum that he could feel vibrating at the base of his skull. Keith closed his eyes, wanting to sleep. It’ll go away. It’s all just a dream. His eyes open again, the surroundings a little brighter, everything a little louder. This time he could hear the high pitch wail of a siren, and the flashes of blue light that pierced into his retinas like knives. It hurt. Really fucking hurt. But nothing could compare to the pain, just below his chest. It didn’t feel like the stomach aches he was used to. It was higher up, pulsing and stabbing, as if someone was digging their nails inside and squeezing. The feeling was nauseating.

His eyes opened a third time, and this time Keith was aware that he was in the car. It smelt damp, but the scent of stale beer and burnt out cigarettes still lingered, clinging the upholstery like it had been built into it when the car was made. Despite the putrid scent, the unmistakable hint of pine grounded the boy to here and now. His eyes focussed on his lap, expecting to see his knees. A blur of green, brown and red became clearer until he could see the tiny spines of the Christmas tree scattered over him, several branches digging painfully into his torso, pinning him against the chair. He had no memory of opening the window, but the cold breeze made him shiver, despite the warmth he felt on his tummy and the tops of his legs.

It was the sound of the car door rattling that caused him to wake up for the fourth time, and he slowly, painfully, lifted his head. He could see the windshield now. It was scattered, in a thousand pieces, across the floor, the car bonnet and on the road. Squinting, he could see further, the shapes on the tarmac, the broken metal, the licence plate, the small, but unmistakably limp frame of a person, curled in on themselves on the floor, a few feet away from the carnage. His arm was bent awkwardly, impossibly flexible. 

Urgent voices, close, at his window, called out to him. They didn’t say his name. They didn’t know his name. But they were definitely speaking to him. Keith focussed on the shadow next to him, and the boy immediately recognised the uniform. A fireman. Like the ones that had visited his school. He spoke with such urgency, yet Keith couldn’t work out the words. All he knew was the door was slowly beginning to crack open once the crowbar had been put to use. He looked forward, straight ahead. He didn’t want to look out of the window anymore. It was all too confusing. He didn’t know what he was seeing, what had caused this bizarre dream. But he knew where his mother was. She was in the front seat. Sleeping in the front seat, chest resting on the steering wheel, her long dark hair covering her face. Keith tried to call out to her. Tried to form the words that would make her wake up. But his throat felt thick, swollen, and it only caused him to cough.

The shouts from the man next to him, the one trying to free him from this nightmare, became a little more clear, and rang in Keith’s mind like a broken record.

‘Don’t look... Don’t look... Don’t look...’

Keith didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see. He just wanted to wake up. Slowly, he moved his head to the side, where Shiro should have been. The passenger seat, in the front, next to his mother. His absence was the most terrifying part of this terrible ordeal, and for a moment, Keith wondered whether he’d already been pulled out. Whether he was already awake. But his eyes trailed back to the lifeless figure on the road. The one with the arm bent at all the wrong angles. 

‘Don’t look... Don’t look... Don’t look...’

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scream that ripped through Keith like a shard of glass pierced the air, filling the still apartment with terror. Flailing his limbs, trying to fight off invisible branches, glass and shredded metal, he sent the blankets and pillows flying across the room. He could hear the crashing in the background as doors slammed open and shut in the wake of the heavy footsteps that raced towards him. When his own door flew open, with such force the handle made dent where it connected with the wall, he lay, howling, rocking, arms wrapped over his head as he sobbed. The light came on and he suddenly felt strong hands grab his wrists, forcing them away from his face.

“Keith! Keith, wake up!” Shiro yelled, trying to remain authoritative for his brother’s sake, despite his own shaken nerves.

Keith whimpered, sobbing loudly, allowing himself be held closely and soothed like he was a frightened child again, with Shiro hushing him and reminding him to breath. That the nightmare was over.

Allura was crouched in front of him, one hand on his knee, thumb moving back and forth slowly, rubbing reassuring circles into the only part of Keith that wasn’t wrapped up in Shiro’s embrace.

“Sh, sh... It’s okay now, you’re home.” She whispered. Keith let out another strangled sob, but he could breathe again, focussing on the cold metal of Shiro’s prosthetic.

They stayed like that, the three of them, for what seemed like hours, but was probably closer to ten minutes, before Allura rose, running into the kitchen and coming back with a glass of water and placing it in Keith’s hand. This time she sat next to him, wrapping an arm over his shoulder and pulling him close, so Shiro could stand up.

“... You haven’t woke up like that in months.”

Keith didn’t respond, but Allura stroked his hair and rocked him steadily as he regained control his breathing.   
None of them had the heart to acknowledge what the date was. They all knew it. They’d all been counting it down for weeks, although they’d pushed the thought deep down. November twenty-fifth was marked on all of their inner calendars, like a black mark, and acknowledging it would make it harder than it needed to be. Today was the ninth anniversary of the accident.

“What...” Keith swallowed and tried again. “What time is it?”

“It’s just gone half past four.” Allura whispered into his hair. “Do you think you’ll go back to sleep?”

They all knew the answer to that, and Keith shook his head, sitting up and giving the mayor’s daughter a thankful look.

“No... I... Sorry, you can go back to bed. Thanks... For this.”

Shiro smiled down at him, placing his good arm on Keith’s bruised shoulder.

“I think I’m up for the day.”

In the light, Keith’s cuts and bruises were visible. Although the swelling had gone down, the bump on his forehead had turned purple, and the graze looked inflamed. It took every bit of the red paladin’s self control not to scratch the itchy cut.  
His shoulder and knees had also taken a bashing, but to his surprise, his hands weren’t too bad. Shiro’s eyes fell on Keith’s bare stomach, where the pale scar was surrounded by a light bruise.

“Maybe we should get that checked out.” He said, cautiously.

“It’s fine, it’s just a bruise.” Keith lied. The flesh underneath felt tender and every time he stretched, a sharp pain would course through him, making him double over.

“I’m not taking that chance.”

“Shiro-”

“I’m not arguing about this.”

Keith closed his mouth, staring dejectedly at Allura for support. But she shook her head, knowing there was no way of changing his mind when it came to his younger brother.

Begrudgingly accepting his fate, he got to his feet, which were still a little unsteady despite the fading anxiety, and made his way to the kitchen. He had no appetite, nausea still pulsing through him with every breath out, but he pulled a mug from the cupboard above the kettle. Shiro had always teased him about how week he liked his tea; decaffeinated with lots of milk and some sugar made the drink seem almost white. At the last second, he pulled to more mugs down, filling one with a ground coffee and the other with the Earl Grey tea that Allura was so fond of.

 

Shiro sat reading the news on his Ipad when Allura excused herself to shower, which Keith saw as the perfect opportunity to talk to his brother.

“Did you ask her?”

“Mm?” Shiro mumbled, looking up from the screen.

“To move in?”

The eldest pursed his lips and set the tablet down, glancing towards the hallway that led to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I did.”

“... And?”

“She said yes,”

Keith was about to congratulate him, when he saw the tension in his brother’s eyes; a kind of nervousness that seemed alien when coming from him.

“What’s the problem?”

Shiro sighed, shaking his head.  
“Nothing. Well, not nothing... Her dad wants to meet me.” 

“... Her dad.”

“Yeah.”

“Her dad, as in the mayor?”

“Right.”

He glanced down at the empty mug in his hands, wishing it was full so he’d have something to busy his hands.

“... I mean, you couldn’t keep it a secret forever.”

“I know.” He sighed again. “But what if he says no? I love her, Keith. I really do. But I don’t want to ruin her relationship with her dad. That’d break her heart.”

“He’ll get over it.” The red paladin shrugged. “She’s, what, twenty-one? Not really a kid anymore.” 

“Her age won’t matter to him. She’s his daughter first, an adult second.”

Keith didn’t say anything, instead, he fiddled with his spoon, focussing on the view out of the window, where the snow fell heavily.

“It’s like if you told me you wanted to move in with your girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever.” The spoon fell on the countertop with a loud clatter, and once again, all of his attention focussed on the black paladin, who carried on, oblivious to the other’s pounding heart beat. “I wouldn’t see you as an adult. I’d question the crap out of whoever it was and I’d probably be checking up on you four times a day.”

Swallowing felt like trying to get a golfball through a hose pipe. Shiro had never suggested that Keith might have even slightest attraction towards men. In fact, on the rare occasions that the two had ever talked about relationships, he’d always assumed his younger brother was attracted to women. It hadn’t upset Keith, who’d never bothered to correct him, but the sudden inclusion of men into the category of people he’d date had come as a shock. He caught the tail end of Shiro’s rant, just as he thoughts trailed off.

“I’ll probably always see you as a kid.”

He swallowed, suddenly feeling a little guilty for brushing off Allura’s father’s feelings. Had Shiro thought Keith was being insensitive? 

“Sorry, I thought... I didn’t know you thought of me as a kid.”

Shiro smiled warmly, drinking the last of his coffee. “It’s not because of how you act. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to watch you grow up for six years.” A hint of guilt seamed to pass over his features, as if it was a thought that went through his mind every day but only bubbled to the surface in moments of distress. The sight of it tied Keith’s stomach in knots.

“Do you want me to move out?” He blurted, unaware of his lips moving until he saw his brother’s dumbfounded eyes staring back at him, as if he had suddenly started speaking in Simlish.

“What?”

Keith took a deep breath before continuing.

“Do you want me to... move out.” 

The two sat in a painful silence for a long while, before Shiro started laughing.

“No, idiot, I don’t want you to move out.”

“But... You and Allura... Don’t you want your space? Aren’t I getting in the way?”

“Keith.” His voice was warm, soft and serious as he spoke. “You’d never get in the way. I want you here. I love having you near by... You’re my little brother.”

He felt the tension leaving his shoulders and a relief that he didn’t know he needed flooded him with affection. It was easy to forget how lucky he was that he had Shiro. That Shiro had come back for him.

“But what about Allura?”

“Allura wants you here too. We spoke about it... She never expected you to leave and she’d never ask you to. You don’t seem to get how much you mean to us.”

A happiness filled Keith in a way that almost made him feel giddy, and he walked around the counter and was surprised to find himself hugging his brother, who held him tightly and patted him on the back after the long embrace.

“Thank you...”

Shiro said nothing, but gathered up the empty mugs, dumping them in the sink before checking the time. It was eight in the morning, and the daylight seemed grey and watery as it filtered through the dense cloud cover. Down below, cars still had their headlights on as the drivers made their daily commute. Had it been any other day, Keith may have found the winter scene beautiful.

“We should go to see her this morning.” Shiro said tentatively, side-eyeing Keith who was busy sorting through his messages. Putting the phone to one side, he pretended to inspect his nails.

“Yeah... We can take her some flowers.” 

The black paladin nodded, wondering where he could get a decent sized bouquet at this time of year. Keith shuffled into his bedroom, at a loss of what to do. The graveyard where his mother was buried didn’t open until ten, and the walk would take less than an hour each way. At the same time, sitting and doing nothing would lead to a crush of thoughts that he didn’t want to deal with. Although visiting his mother’s grave would naturally be a miserable outing, many of his foster parents, the ones that had bothered to take him to the graveyard on the twenty-first of every month, had stressed the importance of being brave. That his mother wouldn’t have wanted him to cry. Keith couldn’t help but feel that they were right. His mother wouldn’t have wanted him to cry, but not because of her strong maternal instincts or because she didn’t want her sons to be sad, but because she detested ‘whining brats’ with such a passion that Keith had often wondered how his father had ever convinced her to have kids.

Shaking his head of the thoughts that were already closing in on him like a dark, leaden shroud, Keith grabbed the VR goggles and booted up his computer.

 

Keith ducked, dodged and dived as the training dummies came at him in rapid succession. He hadn’t bothered taking his lion to a Galra occupied planet, having needed the sweet relief that came with the distraction sooner rather than later. One of the dummies caught his avatar on the shoulder and he forced himself to turn and meet the blade with his own, slicing a gash across the torso and sending it flying to the side of the room in an impressive show of strength. Two came at once, from different direction and he dropped at the last minute, the spears from the robots spearing one another and Keith kicked them to the side as he jumped to catch the underside of an opponent who tried to go over him, rather than around.

Then he felt the tap on his shoulder and he whirled, sword in hand, a blade meeting his own in a clumsy attempt to defend themselves from decapitation.

“Shooter?” Keith said, surprised to find him online this early in the morning.

The Altean smirked as the red paladin asked him what he was doing here, and laughed easily as he replied.

“I fancied a bit of sword play.” 

Blade felt his face heat up at the promising whisper, but although he was glad to see the blue paladin, he couldn’t work up excitement necessary for their flirting games. 

“So did I,” He said, shutting down the the training simulation. “I’m sorry, I’m just... It’s not a good day for that.” He sat on the bench and offered the controls for dummies to Shooter, who simply set it down on the table and took a seat next to him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, man?”

“No.” Blade said, adamantly. “You’ve got enough going on right now.”

“Yeah, sure but... Come on, Blade, we’re friends right? You were there for me when I needed someone to rant at.”

Blade said nothing, but softened at the arm placed around his shoulders. Although he couldn’t feel it physically, he relished the idea of being held so close. 

“It’s just... My mom died nine years ago... Today.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This time it was Shooter’s turn to be silent, as he stumbled for what to say next. What can you say to someone who’s seemingly lost everything? ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ seemed too weak in this case.

“How did she... Was it the... Y’know?” He trailed off, feeling awkward and shit for not being able to comfort the paladin next to him. But to his surprise, Blade’s head had rested on his shoulder, watching the broken dummies fade one by one.

“Car accident.” Was all he said, clearly not wanting to go into much detail. Shooter didn’t need to ask whether it was the same one that caused his spleen to rupture, and he wasn't going to. But he was suddenly lost in thought that man that seemed so strong and so independent, was only like that because he’d had a lifetime of bad experiences all at once at such an early age. And now that he was curled up next to him, he could see his vulnerable side. The side that yearned for someone to reach out to him and hold him. The side that he probably didn’t let anyone see. Maybe not even the people he knew in real life.

“Oh... Are you... Doing anything nice?” He wanted to slap himself, wincing a little as he heard his own words. “I mean... Like... With your family?”

“Me, my brother and his girlfriend are taking flowers to her grave.”

“... What about your dad?”

It seemed like a risky question. Maybe Blade didn’t know his dad, but surely he’d have mentioned it if his dad had died in the accident too. He felt the head on his shoulder shake.

“No. He’s in Japan.”

“... Business?”

“Probably... He moved there with Attackashi a couple months after the accident... He was in hospital for a while. We both were.” 

Lance didn’t want to press for more information. The way that Blade’s voice turned bitter and morose suggested that the move hadn’t been a happy one, and he couldn’t begin to understand why a child who’d already lost one parent, would be abandoned by the other and separated from his brother. On top of that, the news that Blade and Attackashi were brother’s was hardly surprising, given how close the two seemed whenever they were online together.

“... It sounds like you’re both better off without him. It’s his loss.”

Blade nodded again, burrowing closer to Lance’s avator in a way that made his heart ache.

“... Thank you... For this.”

“Anytime...”

 

Lance sprawled on the sofa for a quick nap, trying to block out the noise of his siblings play fighting, but quickly gave up on the idea when he heard the sound of a plate smashing in the kitchen, followed by a loud ‘sorry’ from Raul. 

“Better clean that up before mom gets home!” He yelled, stretching and getting up in a manner that probably resembled cold custard being tipped out of a jar. He was slow, sluggish and his eyelids felt heavy from the lack of sleep.  
The cat that had been curled up on his stomach twitched his tail in an annoyance, glaring at the blue paladin as he hopped up onto the chair arm.

“Hey, blue.” Lance mumbled, scratching him behind the ear. The cat purred, pressing his cheek against his owner’s hand before curling up once again. It was amazing that he could sleep at all.

The cat belonged to the brothers, having been one of the more stubborn strays in the area that made a point of creeping into the house and sneaking into the boy’s room, back when they shared it, to enjoy the milk and cold cuts of ham the two had offered. Eventually, their father had allowed them to keep the cat, having been the only one that had objected to its presence, and the next day they had taken it to the vets to be vaccinated, deflead, microchipped and collared before settling into his new home. It’s real name was Church, named after the place it had been found before it started paying the McClain family a visit, but ever since Lance had set his sights on the Blue Lion of Voltron, he had taken to giving the cat a nickname as a mascot. It also helped that the stray appeared to be a Russian blue, probably an escaped or abandoned kitten from one of the nearby breeders.

Outside, Zoe and Mia, Lance’s two younger siblings, played with the twins, Lucas and Florence. They were five, and Lance’s mother had a agreed to look after her daughter’s three children whilst Josephine and her husband were at work. Sophie, the youngest,had fallen asleep after spending the morning chasing Lance around the house in a game that seemed to be a hybrid of tig, hide-and-seek and the floor is made of lava, and now the girl laid completely crashed in the armchair, with blanket her ‘favourite’ uncle had thrown over her.

Not an hour into her day with her grandkids, Lance’s mother, Julieta, had a call from the hospital. It was a common occurance, one that they were all used to and didn’t begrudge her, but she apologised over and over again, making sure to give each of children and grandchildren had a goodbye hug and a kiss before running out, with the promise of bringing home something for dessert.

Lance checked the time, before looking into the kitchen, glad to see that Raul had cleared up the fragmented remains of whatever plate he’d broken, before checking to see that Sophie was still asleep. Blue had moved, curling up next to her as if she was a hot water bottle, nestled under the blanket.

The shuffling at the door just off the living room caused him to knock on the door before entering the well decorated bedroom, with it’s floral sheets and antique rugs. His grandmother, Magdelena, stood at her wardrobe, pulling out long, brightly coloured dresses and hats, throwing them on a pile on the bed behind her.

“Mima?” Lance said softly. “What are you doing? 

The lady turned, staring at him with fear in her eyes. Her arms shook so much that the cane in her hand seemed to offer her no support as she gripped it tightly.

“Who are you?!” She cried out, voice cracked and afraid. “I’ll call the police! Who are you?!”

“Mima, it’s me, it’s Lancy-Lance!” He offered her the best, cheeky smile, the one that she’d always laughed at when he was younger. She eyed him suspiciously, frowning and shaking her head.

“My grandson is playing outside! And he’s not some... Some... Some gangly teenager! You’ll find no jewels in here!” She raised her cane, jabbing him in the chest. “I’m stronger than I look, young man!”

Lance’s heart tightened at the disgust in her eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d looked at him like this, but the sting never dulled whenever she grew confused and forgot who he was.  
Taking a step forward, he raised his hands, palms forward so she could see they were empty.

“Mima... How old is Lance?” 

“He’s-! He’s... Never you mind how old he is! I told you to get out!”

He took a step forward, trying to reach for her shoulders, gently, trying to show her he was no threat. But she hadn’t been lying about her strength. She swung the cane and it caught him by surprised, clipping the hinge of his jaw with such force that Lance staggered putting a hand on the bed to keep himself from falling over completely. The pain was instant, but he wriggled his jaw, opening and closing his mouth, working it through the ache as he stood up.

“Nico! Nico!” She cried out, backing herself into the corner, holding up the cane and threatening to strike again. In the distance, he could hear Sophie crying, probably startled from the noise. The door behind him opened and Bianca and Raul ran in, taking in the scene before turning to their grandmother, who could only stare in surprise and horror.

“Are you alright?” Raul put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, who shrugged it off and nodded.

“Just a bruise.”

“Bi... Bianca?” Magdelena mumbled, lowering her cane as her eyes trailed over her granddaughter, who hadn’t changed much in appearance since she was twelve. Her hair was still long and brown, and today only half her face had a tiny bit of makeup on. She must have been interrupted while applying the eye liner.

Bianca took a careful step forward, gently holding out her hand for the cane. The matriarch handed it to her, confused and numb, before looking at Raul and then Lance. There was already a mark on his cheek that promised to turn into a bruise.

“Lance? Oh... Oh, Lance I’m sorry, querido, I... I didn’t... I can’t-”

“It’s okay, Mima.” Lance smiled reassuringly, although it ached to do so. “It was an accident... At least we know we’ll be safe from intruders!”

“But I hit my... I hit my own grandson... I thought you were a-”

“Shh... It’s alright, mima.” Bianca soothed. “It’s dark in here, and you thought Lance was someone else... Come on, let’s get you in your chair.”

As if on cue, Raul pulled her wheelchair closer, allowing Magdelena to shuffle closer before sitting down heavily, eyes rarely leaving the tallest of the three.

“You need some ice on that, querido...” She reached out, with one bony hand and took his, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m so sorry...”

“It’s alright, not even that can mess up this face.” He grinned. “You’re still my number one, girl!”

She laughed a little, allowing Bianca to push her through to the living room.

“Who’s crying?”

“Sophie,” Raul said, stepping away to take care of her while the others went into the kitchen. 

“Is she crying because of me?” Magdelena asked, frowning. “I’ve caused so much trouble. Nicolas was right, he should have put me in the home.”

Lance seethed at the mention of his father. If it was up to him, Lance would be sent away too. Because that’s what Nicolas McClain was like. He liked to hide away his problems. It wasn’t the fact that he’d suggested putting his grandmother in a home. She was, after all, sick, and would probably benefit from round the clock specialist care, which they might be able to afford if they made a few spending cuts here and there. But the fact that he’d said it so dismissively, in front of her, as if he was talking about putting the bins out, had sickened him. It was then, with the backing of his mother, and brothers and sisters, that he’d vowed to look after her. It was his rebellion. His way of showing his father that he could not have everything he wanted.

His mother and grandmother had said that people deal with grief in different ways, and that his father was probably deeply upset when he found at that his mother had been diagnosed with dementia, and would slowly lose her memories, growing more and more confused, and that his way of dealing with it was to distance himself, so the blow wouldn’t be so hard when the time would come for her to pass away. At the time, his mima was in a much clearer frame of mind, but the last three years had taken its toll. More frequently, they’d wake to her trying to unlock the front door and tend to the plants in the middle of the night, or they’d find her refilling her bath, despite having just had one. There were times when she asked for her husband, or would brag about how proud she was that her son had just finished college and was aspiring to become a lawyer. She’d talk about the wedding to his mother as if it was yesterday or next week. There was even one time when Lance had gone into the dining room and found her sat with her address book, writing on blank envelopes. She’d been in the middle of addressing letters to her friends to come to her own wedding, which had taken place over fifty years before.

And each time this happened, each time Lance was reminded that he was losing someone, that he had perhaps already lost them, it broke his heart. His grandmother who had always been his rock. The one he could talk to about anything. The one that had been there for him when he felt like no one else was. The one that was slowly slipping through the cracks of the past and the present, reality and imagination.

 

“So,” Bianca said, handing a wet dish to Lance. “That was how I asked out Michael.”

“Thank god,” Lance muttered, drying the plate and setting it to one side. “I didn’t think that story was ever going to end.” 

His sister had been telling their grandmother about how she’d asked out some guy in her class, whom Lance would eventually get round to trying to intimidate for his own amusement.

“That was very brave of you, querida.” Their grandmother was busy chopping up tomatoes that she was going to put in the lasagna. “When I was younger, girls would rarely ask a gentleman out.”

“It’s still a little taboo, I guess.” Bianca replied, humming slightly. “But he said yes, and we’re going out tomorrow night to see a movie.”

“‘To see a movie’” Lance teased, earning a slap with the wet towel in his sisters hand.

“Come here, mi amado. Let me see you.” Sticking her tongue out at him, the sixteen year old span on her heels and strode towards her grandmother, letting her hand be taken and patted. “You’re a strong, intelligent, young woman. And I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.” 

“I won’t be, mima.” 

“Has your mother talked to you about sex, yet-”

Lance choked on his laughter, watching his sister’s face flush red with embarrassment. Squirming, she tried to look anywhere but the matriarch’s eyes.

“Mima, I-”

“What the f-” Lance gasped, tears forming in his eyes as he cackled. 

“Lance, querido, you shouldn’t laugh. You must also know how to respect ladies, and how to be safe. Anything can happen when you meet the right person. You must be gentle and show them a-”

He gagged a little. “Mima, I think we’re okay. I mean... We’ve got the internet! And we learnt a lot from school.”

“When I had my first time-”

“Would you like help making dinner?” Bianca said hurriedly, grabbing the carrots and the onions. “I’ll help you chop these for you!”

Magdelena patted her granddaughter’s hand, smiling a little. “I can see you’re uncomfortable. I’ll sit you two down properly at some point.”

“Yeah, I’ll be at work... At some point.” Lance said, letting the nausea and amusement settle as he turned around and took over the job of washing the dishes.

The truth was, Lance had already had his first time. It had been a girl, about a year ago, when he was on a school trip. It had seemed ideal, even if no one had believed him. There was no awkward encounters at school the next day and he hadn’t seen her since. She’d been looking for someone who couldn’t go spreading rumours, and who better than a kind, handsome stranger. Lance had enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed it immensely. But he’d always thought his first time would have been with a girlfriend or... He let the thought die as it formed. Keith had kissed him at that party, but that didn’t mean he’d intended it to go any further. And Lance didn’t want to risk the friendship they had by trying to hook with him before the fall out. And trying to screw him afterwards had seemed like adding insult to injury. Plus he... He’d wanted more. At first he thought that he just needed to get bi-curious thoughts out of his head and put them into practice. Once he’d tried it, he’d have it out of his system and he could probably claim that he was into women for the rest of his life. But then there was Blade. Blade who drove him crazy with his dips between coy and flirtatious. He had a body that Lance had spent hours drooling over, and he was... Reassuring. He found comfort in knowing that he had someone who could relieve him, not just when he was sexually frustrated, but when life got him down. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see his face.

“Oh...”

The voice had broken the silence so suddenly that the blue paladin let the plate he was holding drop back into the sink, and the sound of the knife thumping steadily against the chopping board stopped as both Lance and Bianca turned to look at the source. Magdelena had dropped the knife she’d been using and she stared in confusion at her left arm. It hung limp, rested on her knee, and she turned to look up at her grandchildren.

“Mima?” Lance knelt in front of her, taking both of her hands. “Mima, are you...”

“... M... Mm... My h-head.” She stuttered, squeezing his hands tightly. Only he realised, with a growing sense of dread, that only one of his hands, the one that held his grandmother’s right, was being crushed with a vice like grip. The other barely offered a twitch 

“Do you want an aspirin?” Bianca said, standing behind Lance, who studied his grandmother’s face, looking for what he feared most. For what he had been fearing for a long time. Every time she tried to speak, to move her lips, only one side obeyed her. As she squeezed harder, she seemed to be winking at him, the other eye seeming slightly lower and more tired than the other. Cold panic ran through him, grounding him to the floor.

“Mima?” Bianca said again, more urgent than before.

“Ambulance...” Lance whispered.

“What?”

“Call an ambulance!”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith had called Lotor that morning to rearrange the lunch meet up. He’d hoped he’d have time to see him after he went to the cemetery, so he could talk to someone who wasn’t his brother, whose tension radiated off of him despite his attempts at remaining upbeat. But the appointment at the hospital had been booked, and Keith had no way of persuading Shiro that the bruise caused by the handlebars was only bad on the surface. So, with even more apprehension than before, he clutched the bouquet of flowers close as they walked past the rows of graves, finally reaching the white marble gravestone that marked where their mother had been laid to rest. It was well-tended, even in winter, with the grass clipped short and planted flowers clipped and watered every day. Although this fact hidden under three inches of snow, making the marble seem to fade into the background, leaving the bronze epigraph with the black lettering looking like it was suspended in the air.

‘Mae Kogane; Died on the 21st of November and laid to rest on the 1st of December. Wife and Mother of two. Rest in peace.’

“The lilies will look lovely.” Allura said, soberly and Shiro hummed a response.

“The groundskeeper says there should be water in the vase.”

Keith brushed the snow away from a small bump, where the vase should have been, frowning when his eyes were met with a shocking red, rather than the gold he was expecting. Roses. They had to be roses. He threw the lilies to one side as he began shovelling the ice away with his hands, his fingerless gloves doing nothing to shield him from the cold. Petals, soft and bright, appeared with each brush and soon a full bouquet was uncovered. Keith stayed knelt on the ground, staring dumbfounded at the flowers.

“Uh… Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you leave roses here? Recently?”

“No?” Shiro stepped to his side, Allura peering over his shoulder. “… They’re fresh.”

“Is there a card, Keith?”

Keith reached for the flowers, finding a small piece of card tied to one of the stems. The message had been written in ink, and had run a little from its time in the snow. Still, the handwriting wasn’t illegible, and its familiarity struck a nerve, deep down, buried under years of bitterness.

‘To my darling wife. Gone but not forgotten.’

“Shiro…Dad’s been here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Chapter seven will be posted soon, in which we will have some heavy Klance (both in virtual life and in reality)!


	7. Hold Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains smut part way through!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Sorry for the long wait! This was a very long chapter! XD Sorry if this seems rushed, I was eager to post it!  
> Hope you enjoy!

Keith sat in the hospital waiting room in a sullen silence, watching pregnant women and people in casts in various places come and go. In the last half hour he’d paced back and forth between the reception, the toilets and the notice board. He’d flipped through several magazines with no real interest and played on his phone, but nothing settled his restlessness.

“We’ve been waiting here for thirty minutes!” Shiro complained to the receptionist, irritation plain in his voice. “And we’d booked an appointment!”

The red paladin turned to Allura, tiredly, raising his eyebrows.

“He does know we arrived half-an-early, right?”

She offered a half-hearted smile and took his hand in her own. “You know what he’s like. He’s projecting.”

“Who’s projecting?” Shiro said, dropping down on her other side and putting an arm around her shoulder.

“No one, dear.” She examined Keith’s nails, frowning and clicking her tongue. “You need to stop biting your nails.”

“Nervous habit,” Keith shrugged, pulling his hand back into his lap.

They hadn’t stayed long at the cemetery, once they’d found who the roses had been left by. In fact, they’d only placed the flowers in the vase before walking all the way to the hospital. Keith was used to hiking all across Altea, but he could tell the other two wanted nothing more than to get on the bus. He’d even offered to meet them there. But of course, Shiro wouldn’t hear of it, stating that he didn’t trust the younger brother not to run off and ditch the appointment. Still, they had made it in good time and now waited for his name to be called out so he could get this pointless physical over and done with.

Keith bit the inside of his lip, eyes unfocusing as he drifted deep into his own thoughts. He longed more than ever for the day to be over, but the revelation that his dad might be in the country had set them all on edge. True, it was possible that Ichirou Kogane had ordered the flowers to be sent to the grave, but the last time he had ever done that had been the funeral, nine years before. So it was more like that he was in the state. Worst of all, he had to be in Altea.

 

Shiro had been quiet the entire way to the hospital, and Keith could only imagine what was going on his head. Mr Kogane hadn’t spoken to either of his children in years, and that was the way they liked it. Keith had received a Christmas card a few weeks after his father had gone to Tokyo when he was eight, back when he’d still hung on to the belief that his father would come back to collect him in January. But it had been New Year’s Eve when the social worker had arrived to the hospital, to tell him he was going to stay with a family, in a city a few miles away from Altea. At that point, Keith had stopped waiting by the phone.

Shiro’s absence had been the most painful part of the whole abandonment, but Keith had never blamed him. He was twelve, and was supposed to inherit their father’s business; a powerful company of lawyers that issued legal representation internationally. They had a very high success rate in both legal and civil cases.

Keith had no idea of the full story that led to Shiro leaving Tokyo and searching for him when he turned eighteen. Every time he’d asked, Shiro had said that their father had kept promising him every summer that they’d go to Altea to bring him with them. As the years passed, Shiro must have realised that his father had never intended on being saddled with Keith in first place, since in an act of rebellion, the eldest scandalised his father’s company by renouncing not only the inheritance of the business, but his name as well. In a a few short forms, he went from Takashi Shirogane Kogane to Takashi Shirogane, making his middle name his last.  
But that was all the youngest Kogane brother knew.

Glancing once again at his phone, he considered calling Shooter, to rant at him and get rid of the tension that was making his head dizzy and his shoulders ache. But Shiro would ask too many questions, knowing his brother wasn’t one for making frequent phone calls. He was already catching on to something. Shielding the mobile, he started to text, only to be startled as a nurse crouched in front of him, peering into his face, taking in every detail before smiling broadly.

“Hello, you...” Her voice was sweet and warm and Keith stared at her in wide-eyed confusion.

She was probably in her mid-forties, with long dark brown hair tied back in a bun, although a few messy strands had escaped from the hair bobble. Dark circles under her eyes made Keith wonder if she ever got much sleep, and her tanned skin seemed so familiar somehow. As she beamed at him, deep wrinkles appeared near her mouth, as if she’d laughed and smiled so much that the expression had been perfectly etched into her face. He didn’t recognise her, physically, but the warmth was something he could hardly forget, as it was the only warmth that had come to him at the coldest of times.

 

Shiro had clocked who she was long before Keith did and he rose to shake her hand, only to be pulled into a long embrace before being held at an arm’s length, as she took in his metal prosthetic limb and the grown man it was attached to.

“Takashi Shirogane,” She beamed, giving him another hug, which he returned gladly. “Look at you! You have grown.” Her accent was thick and foreign. Keith couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed as warm as she was.

“Nine years does that, ma’am.” Shiro said politely, looking a little bashful.

“And this young woman,” She gestured to Allura, holding a hand out. “This is your wife, no?”

Allura laughed, taking her hand and shaking it politely. “No, we’re not married,”

The nurse smiled. 

“She is beautiful, Takashi. I recognise you. Were you in the news or...?” She trailed off, and Allura nodded, with a smile, clearly touched by the woman’s kindness.

“My father is in the media a lot. Sometimes I am pictured with him.” 

“Ah! I see.” She gave Allura’s hand a squeeze before she turned back to Keith, pulling him into a tight hug. “And you!”

Keith felt himself pulled into a tight embrace as he racked his mind. Over her shoulder he mouthed a silent ‘Who the fuck is she?’ as he gently returned the gesture, at a loss of what to do with his hands. When she finally pulled away, he winced a little as he saw her damp eyes, and she brushed away the tear on her cheek. Clearly she knew him. Clearly he meant something to her. And the dawning realisation hit him when he read the name tag pinned to her scrubs.

“... Julietta?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days had passed since the boys had been brought in to Altea’s hospital; a large, modern building that had undergone a complete refurbishment as one of the cities major projects. It had gone from what was little more than a glorified doctors practice to a state of the art infirmary in little over two years. Still, the newly established paediatric unit had done little to bostle Keith’s mood, even if it had saved his life. Underneath the cotton bandages and medical tape, his wound itched and stung, aching whenever he lay awkwardly, and for a couple hours a day, he would be sent up and down the halls, clutching onto a banister in an attempt to regain the strength in his legs. It was working. He could now take his full body weight, even if anything too strenuous made him want to curl up and sleep wherever he stood.

The ward was private, with Keith needing complete recovery, but he hoped he could stay in his own room, away from the other children. He didn’t feel much like playing, or talking. In here, his bed, the tables and the chairs were littered with get well soon cards and teddies that neighbours had sent and books lay unread in a pile at his feet. Outside, the snow fell. As if nothing had changed.

He closed his eyes.

Not much made sense to him. He didn’t know why he was pestered to drink or why the food smelt revolting. But the one thing that he really didn’t understand, was why he couldn’t see Shiro.  
When his dad had come in, he’d seemed miserable, pale and he’d inspected Keith’s scar the way that a jockey might inspect the broken limb of a racehorse; mournful and disappointed. Ichirou had sat with him when the police came, listening to his answers when they’d asked him if he remembered what had happened to him. But the nurses had ushered him out of the room when the questions had become more detailed.

‘Did mommy drink a lot?’

‘Did she drive when she’d had a drink?’

‘Do you remember where you were sitting?’

‘What happened before you got in the car?’

‘Did mommy tell you that the seatbelt in the front was broken?’

Each interview made his head ache, their questions becoming more and more tedious. On a few occasions he’d refused to answer, pulling his blankets over his head and curling up on his side, as if he was asleep.

But every time they’d left, he’d secretly wished they hadn’t. When he was alone, the memories came back. Every detail replaying over and over again in his mind. Like the broken seat belt. Shiro had taken his place in the passenger side of the front seat, where minutes before, Keith had kicked and thrashed, pulling at the straps and slamming his foot into the buckle when his mother had tried to put him in the car. That’s what must have broken it. If he’d have just sat still, the buckle would have held the belt. The car might have still crashed, but Shiro would have been safe. Or at least safer than he was when the car had slammed into the road barrier at forty-miles per hour.

Keith sniffed, curling up tighter, despite the pain in his stomach, trying to wrench the image of Shiro’s sprawled body on the road from his mind.

“Oh, Cariño...” The door to his room closed softly and Keith felt the side of his bed dip under the weight of the nurse, his favourite, perching on the edge. She didn’t force the covers back, she didn’t force him to talk to her, but she rested a hand gently where the Keith’s shoulder made a bump in the duvet. He sobbed a little huddling closer, and by the time he’d pushed the covers away, he practically howling through his tears. Julietta was the only nurse that he allowed himself to cry around. Strong arms pulled him into her lap, bundling him against herself and rocking him gently, humming a soft song, one that she sang to him every night since he’d been taking out of the intensive care unit, and she kissed the top of his head gently.

“Brave little soldier.” She whispered, starting the hum again and again until the boy’s body no longer shook with grief. All the other nurses were kind, but nurse McClain was the only one Keith allowed to hold him, cradle him and wipe away his tears.

“T-Takashi...” His voice cracked a little, becoming squeaky through the tightness of his throat.

“He’s okay... He just needs a little time to sleep,” 

“Does he...” He hiccupped. “Does he hate me?” 

The arms around him tightened, and he felt her chin rest on his soft, dark hair.

“No, cariño.” Julietta stood, cradling him as she turned and laid him down on the bed. “He’s a brave boy, like his brave little brother.” Keith felt her poke him gently on the nose and smiled slightly.

“You shouldn’t be picking him up, Julietta!” Another nurse squawked, hurrying to her side and putting a hand on her back, helping her straighten up. Her name was either Sally or Sandy, and she had a habit of talking as if the child wasn’t there. “Not this far along!”

Julietta laughed, thanking her colleague.   
“Dios mio, you worry more about the baby than my mother-in-law!”

She bent again, tucking the duvet around the boy; loose enough for him to move but tight enough to keep the monsters away, she’d say.

“Aren’t you supposed to be going home? Your shift ended, like, half-an-hour ago.”

“Yes.” She said, plucking a couple books from the pile. “But not before I say night-night to my little lion.”

Keith giggled, picking the second book she held, the one with the picture of a little boy offering ice creams to some martians in funny helmets.

“You have your own kids to look after.” Sandy persisted, pouring a glass of water and setting it on the nightstand.

“And they will get their bedtime story when I get home.” Juliette toed off her shoes and lay on the bed next to the boy, placing an arm around him and pulling him close. “They’re having pizza with their mima tonight.” 

Sandy left, finally, but not without reminding her coworker that she had to be in at lunch time the next day.

“... Mrs McClain?” Keith whispered, feeling sleepy under the warmth and weight of the blankets.

“Yes?”

“... Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

Keith felt her smile into his hair as she kissed him on the top of his head once again. “Yes, novio,”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Keith hadn’t hugged anyone as hard has he held the nurse in a long time, and she laughed in surprise, kissing his forehead.

“I always told you, you’d be strong!” 

Laughing again, he let her go, trying to work out how he hadn’t recognised her straight away. True, she looked slightly older and more tired than she had back then, but her smile made her appear youthful and energetic. A couple of gray hairs made her look a little more distinguished than the younger colleagues, and she had an aura of joy and wisdom that seemed to make her glow with pride. Above her name on her name tag, Keith could see she had risen through the ranks and was now a nurse practitioner.

 

 

“So.” Julietta said cheerfully, as she gently pressed on the area around the scar. “What are you doing these days?” 

Shiro smiled, his arm around Allura. “I guess my job title is game developer, but I co-created a game with my best friend a few years ago. Most of my work is around expanding that, plus a few other projects.”

Keith winced, and she gave him an apologetic look, grabbing a bottle from a tray a spreading the gel-like contents over his abdomen.

“Anything I have heard of?”

“Um...” Shiro blinked at her. “Do you play video games.”

“No, but-” She paused, wheeling a trolley holding a machine closer to her patient. “I have seven children! I know a lot of the games they play,”

 

On a screen in front of them, a cone appeared as soon as the nurse pressed the scanner to his stomach, studying it with close scrutiny.

“It’s virtual reality game. Voltron; Legendary Defenders.”

“Oh!” She said suddenly, making Keith glance at the screen, heart pounding at the thought her finding any damage. “Yes, my son plays that game!”

“Wow...” Allura murmured, pointing at the screen. “You can see the head, Keith!”

He snorted, throwing the pamphlet on pregnancy and labour that he’d picked up at her.

“Well,” Julietta said, having one last search of Keith’s abdomen with the ultrasound. “I can’t see any bleeding. It’s most likely just a bruise!”

“I told you!” Keith barked at Shiro, who gave him a relieved grin.

“I was looking forward to being an uncle, Keithina”

“That’s not even a name-”

The doors opened and a young nurse poked her head through the door, mouthing an apology at the three visitors.

“Nurse, McClain. You need to come, quick!”

Julietta switched off the ultrasound screen before turning to her former patients.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. But I’m glad you came by! You must keep in touch, yes?”

They made a quick promise to meet up soon and keep her updated on the healing, before she dashed after the student nurse.

 

Keith stepped out of the toilets and began the long walk through the corridors to the exit, where he’d agreed to meet Shiro and Allura. The trek home would take a good thirty-five minutes and he hadn’t been confident that he could hold it that long, despite his hatred of public lavatories. The time on his phone read one-thirty in the afternoon and he groaned inwardly, wishing for billionth time that it was a new day, so he could put to bed the emotions that had run him ragged for last few hours. Although, he had to admit, remeeting Julietta had been worth the trip and the red paladin mused at the thought that the nurse had always seemed to appear when he needed her most as a kid.

“Can I help you?”

Keith frowned, having entered through the doors that he thought led to the exit. Instead he stood in a crowded, unfamiliar room filled with men, women and children in varying conditions. He barely had time to move out the way as a man pushing a heavily pregnant lady, who was sweating and panting, ran passed him, led by two student nurses.

“Uh, sorry, I thought... Where’s the exit?”

Whatever the receptionist’s response was was drowned out over the cries of a child that was covered in grazes, arm clutched in a makeshift sling as her father tried his best to calm her.

“- the left.”

“Right, thanks,” Keith hurried to the left, trying to avoid tripping over the legs of a man who was sprawled on one of the plastic waiting room chairs, clutching a bloody cloth to his nose.

Hurrying towards the door, he passed a woman violently vomiting into a bucket, and he averted his gaze. Not that he couldn’t handled gore, but seeing another person throw up always made him feel nauseous.  
Finally, he made it to the door, bursting through, not entirely sure where to go from there. He searched the map on the nearest wall, trying to find where he’d taken the wrong turn, when a voice, uncharacteristically quiet, came from behind him.

“Hey, Keith....”

He span on his heel, turning to face the man who’d called out to him. But somehow, he seemed unrecognisable in the chaos of the hospital. 

“Lance?” Keith couldn’t help but stare. Nothing in his friend’s appearance had changed, yet the way he held himself was so un-Lance that he had to take stock. The Cuban’s usual impish grin had been replaced with pursed lips, that seemed unable to crack a smile even if someone grabbed his cheeks and forced him do so. His eyes, usually so bright and eager, seemed withdrawn, tired and hollow, lacking the usual mischievous glint that made Keith want to slap him, yet now that it was gone, the red paladin longed for it. But the part of this picture that seemed so out of place, so wrong, was the way Lance’s shoulders were hunched, as if he was ready to cave in completely on himself and never return. The sight made Keith hold his breath.

To top it off, the taller man didn’t respond, eyes repeatedly darting towards the doors that led to the emergency room.

“... What happened?” Keith asked, trying to keep his tone soft, but it was as if no one had heard him. Clearing his throat, he tried again, sharper this time. “Lance, what happened?” God, he hoped he didn’t sound impatient.

Lance turned back to him, thrusting his hands in his pockets and keeping his eyes focussed on Keith’s shoes, rather than his face.

“... My mima.” He said flatly, although the paladin thought he heard the sound of his voice breaking, as if he was trying to keep from coughing. When Keith said nothing, he continued. “My mima had a stroke...”

“... Oh...” The atmosphere became awkward, as he fumbled for something, anything, to say. But what could he say other than; “... I’m sorry... Your mima... She’s your mom?”

Lance’s head snapped up, staring blankly at Keith. “No... No she’s my...” He noticed the other’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, voice cracking once again. “My grandma...”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last two words were all it took to open the flood gates, as his chin began to tremble, tears slowly forming and spilling down his cheeks. Lance raised a hand, covering his mouth and looked away, trying to hold in the sobs that had threatened to surface from the moment he’d walked into his grandmother’s room. He didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not in front of Keith.

He turned completely, walking back the seats with the intention of sitting down, but he couldn’t. He knew once he was seated, he’d want to stand up again, so instead, the blue paladin dug a hand into his jacket pocket, digging out a tissue and pressing it so hard against his eyes that when he released the pressure, he saw stars. Taking three deep breaths to steady himself, he tried to take back control over the grief that threatened to overcome him.

In the corner of his eye, Keith stood motionless, staring at him in consternation. Fuck, he probably looked like a mess,with his eyes all red and swollen, nose dripping with god knows what and his face wet. A part of him wouldn’t blame the younger man if he made an excuse to leave and walked out. But to his surprise, when Keith did finally move, it wasn’t towards the exit. Instead, he took three sure strides towards Lance, wrapping his arms around him, so one went around his waist and the other wound around his shoulder.

“Come here...” Was all that the red paladin whispered, and the dam that had been holding everything back collapsed. Lance clutched at Keith’s signature red jacket before winding his arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder uncontrollably. The smaller man said nothing, but raised a gloved hand to the back of Lance’s head, letting his fingers run through the short, brown curls.

The Cuban held him tighter, desperate not to let go as his breathing came out in short, broken gasps. Fuck, he was going to regret this. Regret using Keith like a stuffed toy he could cry into. But crying had always been a healthy release and being in Keith’s arms, even if they were both at a lost of where they could place them, felt so right somehow. 

“Thank you...” He croaked, feeling a headache coming on, the kind that usually followed crying. His eyes stung and his whole face felt swollen and hot.

Keith stepped back, one hand lingering on Lance’s shoulder a little longer than necessary. 

“... You’re welcome?” 

Lance laughed at the way Keith’s face screwed up in uncertainty at his words.

“Sorry, I think... I think your shoulder might be a bit wet.” 

The red paladin gave a small, half-smile and shrugged. “Not a problem... Um... Lance? Just wondering, does your mom work here?”

He sniffed, pressing the scrunched up tissue to his nose.

“Yeah... Why?”

“No reason.” Keith said, quickly. “Her name tag had the same last name as you and you look pretty similar.”

“Heh...” Lance smiled weakly, his voice still muffled from his hand. “Most people think I look like my dad.” Although he was grateful for the temporary distraction, he couldn’t help but notice the way the Mullet head seemed to shift uncomfortably at the word.

“I don’t know what your dad looks like so-”

“Why are you here?” Lance blurted out, having only just clicked that Keith’s presence in the hospital had nothing to do with hugging him in the corridor. Unless he had a stalker.

“I... My brother dragged me here. He’s a hypochondriac when it comes to me.”

Lance searched Keith from head to toe. He still had a bump on his forehead, although the swelling had gone down considerably since the bike accident. The edges of the bump had begun to turn brown, rather than the purple that stood out in a stark contrast to the mullet’s pale skin. Although the fingerless leather gloves covered Keith’s palms, Lance was willing to bet that they were still sore, despite the grazes being surprisingly shallow considering he’d used his hands to break his fall. And he still seemed to avoid putting weight on his ankle.

“You bruise like a peach.” The Cuban said, nonchalantly, smirking at the way the smaller man’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. God, he looked so fucking cute when he was embarrassed. Maybe that’s why he teased him so much.

“You’re one to talk!” Keith snapped, glaring at Lance in a way that made him think of the way that Church looked at him whenever he stood on his tail.

“What are you talking about? I’m hot as fuck and you know it!” His voice lacked the usual enthusiasm, his mind still on the events of that morning.

Keith said nothing, as he pointed at Lance’s cheek, and he suddenly became aware of his own bruise, from where his grandmother’s cane had struck him just a couple hours before.

“It’s nothing.” Squirming slightly under the other’s scrutinizing glare, he offered a smile. “Play fighting gone wrong.”

He ignored the skeptical glances directed towards him and began to say something, anything, to move the conversation on, when the door at the end of the corridors opened.

“Keith!”

The man that entered was pretty much the same height as him, but his muscular frame dwarfed Lance in a way that demanded authority, and he fought the sudden urge to salute. His hard set jaw, and stern features quickly softened as his eyes landed on Keith.

The lady that followed behind him was beautiful, tall, with her silver-like hair piled up in a neat bun, except for her bangs. It took a moment for recognition to set in, but when it did, Lance felt almost like he was naked in front of everyone he knew. His face was still red and puffy from crying, and he still had remnants of dried bolognese stuck to his jacket from washing the dishes that morning. But still, she smiled when she nodded him, although her eyes were masked with a questioning look.

But he knew her. He recognised her from the papers he used to deliver when he was a kid.

Allura Lionheart.

The mayor's daughter.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I took a wrong turn,” Keith shrugged, but gave Shiro an apologetic look. The man in question glanced between the two boys before smiling at Lance, holding out a hand.

“A friend of yours?” The question was aimed at the younger brother, but Lance shook his hand, seeming wide eyed. 

“Um... Yeah, kind of. Shiro this is Lance, Lance this is my brother, Shiro.”

“Hi,” Lance said, weakly. Keith patted his pockets to see if he could find a tissue, but Allura held one out for him. The taller boy accepted it gratefully, still looking awestruck as he wiped his face.

“Lance?” Shiro seemed to be searching for where he’d heard the name before.

“Oh!” Allura cut in, “Keith mentioned you! Didn’t you move schools?”

“Um... No,” Lance mumbled, giving the aforementioned a confused look, before grinning, that same fucking grin that he used on almost all of his female friends. Even with a stuffy nose and a damp face, it still made him feel weak at the knees. 

“What have you been saying about me, Keith?” 

“Nothing.” Keith hissed, glaring at his brother, but somehow he still resembled a deer caught in the headlights.

Shiro looked blank for a moment, giving Lance another searching look before Allura cut in.

“Keith used to talk about you all the time!”

“No I didn’t!” Heat flushed into his cheeks as he looked desperately at Shiro, who simply grinned.

“That’s where I’ve heard your name before.”

The red paladin wanted to bang his head against a solid brick wall, hard enough to cause the entire building to crumble and fall on top of him. Maybe then he’d get some fucking peace.

“Oh, really?” Lance’s voice still sounded as if he had a bad cold, and it took all of Keith’s will power not to punch his nose into the back of his head. “Like what?”

Before any of them could answer, the door opened, and the chaos of the emergency room resounded in the always, loud and shrill.

“Lance?” It was the receptionist, looking tired and haggard.

Any amusement in the Cuban’s face vanished at the call of his name, replaced by anguish and fear. He swallowed, saying a quick goodbye to Shiro and Allura, and something else to Keith, who didn’t quite hear him, since Lance had already turned away and hurried back into the room that the red paladin had just come from. And for just a second, Keith recognised something in the sad, tired eyes that had lingered on just seconds before.

 

“Perhaps we should have asked the nurse to look at your arm while we were there.” Allura said, watching as Shiro rubbed his shoulder, where the metal met with flesh.

“It wasn’t too bad in the hospital.” 

“We could always go back?” 

Although the snow had finally stopped falling, thick clouds still shrouded Altea like a damp, grey blanket. Keith tugged his Jacket tighter around himself, too stubborn to admit he was cold after Shiro had tried to convinced him to wear a coat that morning.

The eldest shook his head, rolling his shoulder as if he was trying to ease a crick in his back.

“No, we’re nearly home now. It’ll be the cold. It makes the metal shrink if it’s bad enough.”

Keith felt a twinge of guilt. If it hadn’t been for his phobia of cars, then they could’ve been home by now, and had the heater on full blast while they were driving back from the hospital. But like always, Shiro had brushed off Keith’s suggestions of his brother and Allura getting the bus and let him walk by himself.

‘You’re not walking through this part of town on your own. Not when it’ll be dark soon.’ He’d said, gruffly.

“We should get a hot bath when we get home.” Allura said, smiling knowingly.

“We?” Shiro asked, his voice suddenly a low purr.

Keith gagged, causing the taller one of the brothers to laugh and gently smack him on the back of the head. It didn’t hurt, but the force of it made Keith stumble forward.

“Sorry,” Allura laughed. “You were so quiet, I thought you had your earphones in.” She linked her arms in Shiro’s as she moved in between them, so she didn’t have to talk across her boyfriend. “Your friend looked upset earlier.”

Keith nodded, giving in to the silence which suggested that she wanted him to elaborate.

“Yeah, his grandma had a stroke this morning.”

“Poor boy.” Allura murmured. “My grandfather had one a few years ago. It’s not pleasant, to say the least.”

Keith shook his head, frowning as he kicked away some of the snow on the tip of his boots.

“He was very close to his grandma. He used to talk about her all the time.”

“Like the way you used to talk about him?” Her voice wasn’t teasing, although there was a hint of amusement. Keith could tell that there was more to the question, and he chose his words carefully.

“We had an argument a long time ago, and we never really made up.”

“What about?” Shiro asked, busying himself with his phone.

Keith shifted under Allura’s gaze. Still, he understood that they wouldn’t force him to answer if he didn’t want to.

“We’re very different.” He concluded. “We’re into different stuff, we have different friends.” Keith knew that wasn’t completely true. After all, Hunk and Pidge were close to them both. “And he can be such a dick.”

Allura cocked her head to the side, and Keith could have sworn he could feel her eyes burning a hole in the side of his head as she searched him.

“It might not be a bad idea to make up with him.”

Keith gave a noncommittal grunt.

“By the sounds of it.” Allura continued. “You could both use a friend right now.”

 

After changing into some dry jeans and an oversized jumper, Keith took two painkillers before plugging his phone in to charge, sprawling himself on the sofa and checking his messages. He had one from Pidge, short, but straight to the point, like she was.

‘Matt said he’s going to yours later. Will come over with pizza.’

He sent her a thumbs up in reply. Matt was more than Shiro’s business partner and best friend. He had been the one to rebuild and replace his prosthetic arm, giving him back full movement in his fingers with a lightweight metal that wouldn’t be two heavy to carry around on a day to day basis. He was also the one to repair it if anything went wrong.

He continued scrolling through, responding briefly to the one Hunk had sent, asking how he was feeling after coming off of his bike, telling him he was fine and that there was no permanent damage.

Finally, he came to Shooter. Several text messages and two missed calls made Keith sit up bolt right and hit dial, only to be met by the answer machine half a minute.

“Hi, it’s Blade, call me back when you get the chance. My battery had died.”

Stilling the butterflies in his stomach, he read through each of the messages carefully, three times.

‘Hey, can you call me?’

‘If you’ve got a minute’

‘Sorry, that sounded r00d’

‘Call me when you can pls’

‘Sorry you might be at work, i don’t no who else 2 call.’

Keith fired a text back, basically repeating what he said in the voicemail. He was too alert now to lie down, but his feet ached too much to pace the living room. So he sat, awkwardly, perched on the back of the sofa, trying to keep his balance, when the phone rang. He answered on the first ring.

“Hi, sorry, I-”

“Blade,” Shooter sounded energetic, but not with the same excited energy that Keith now associated with the gamer. No, he sounded angry, fired up and fierce. It sounded alien, and for a horrible second, Keith feared it was because he hadn’t answered his calls.

“Um, hi, are you-”

“Sorry for bombing you with texts, I just... I need a distraction, before I do something I regret.”

“Uh... Sure, but what do you want me to do?”

“Anything. Literally anything.” 

Keith hurried to his bedroom, closing the door. Even though Allura and Shiro had gone out to buy new bed sheets, or maybe bedside tables, Keith hadn’t been paying attention, he wanted the room to be as sound proof as possible. If Shooter wanted to rant, then the red paladin would let him.

“Okay, go, what’s wrong.”

“I don’t... I can’t talk about it right now. It’s my dad. I just... Please, you’ve got to help me.”

“Okay, okay... Let me turn my laptop on. Are you alright to go on webcam?”

“Yeah, I’ll find my scarf.”

Keith put the phone down as he covered his hair and face with his own scarf. The day he’d show his face to Shooter would be under more comfortable circumstances than this. By the time he was sure that everything but his eyes were covered, his laptop had fired up, and it took him less than a minute to video call Shooter, who answered almost immediately.

The first thing Keith noticed was that the man was shirtless, his own blue scarf covering his features. Lance’s chest was flushed red, probably with rage, and his eyes held a determined kind of anger. One that was so barely controlled.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know... It doesn’t have to be sexual, I just-”

Shooter cut himself off as Keith raised his hips from the bed, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and pulled them down, past his thighs and knees, until they were thrown to the other side of the room and Keith lay in his boxers, socks and T-shirt.

“... Or it could be...” Shooter said, his astonishment clear in his voice.

Keith was about to take his hoodie off, having sat himself up to begin the careful maneuver of losing the article of clothing without taking his scarf with it, but he thought about the bruise that marked his abdomen. It wasn’t that he was self-conscious, but he knew the blue paladin would ask an array of questions if he saw it. His knees, although scuffed, were easy to explain without having to go into detail about his bike accident or the trip to the hospital.

On the screen, Keith could see Shooter kick off his shoes, sock and trousers. He made short work of making himself comfortable as he sat back on the bed, leaning against the pillows as he began palming himself through his boxers.

“Come on, Blade,”

He hesitated, about to tug up the corners of his top when he left it, stretching back on the bed so Shooter had a good view of his legs and pelvis.

“You’re not taking your jumper off?”

“The cold’s made the scar swell.” He lied easily. “Can I keep it on?”

“Sure,” Shooter purred. “Your scar doesn’t bother me, but you look cute like that.”

“Really?” Keith hummed, pulling the bottom of the jumper over his knees and pulling his boxers down, making sure that his friend didn’t get a peek at the skin underneath. “Even if I’m not wearing anything under it?”

“That’s hot.” The man gasped, his breath becoming hitched as Keith slipped a hand under the hoodie and stroked himself. “Let me see...”

Blade obeyed, inching the clothing up a little higher, so Shooter could see what he was doing to himself. Gasps and sighs left his throat as he stroked himself slowly, speeding up whenever the paladin told him to.

“So good, baby...” By now, the man on the screen was naked, staring as if he was entranced by the way Keith raised and lowered his hips, moaning whenever he touched himself in just the right way. “You know what I’d do if I was there?”

“Tell me!” Keith gasped, throwing his head back. “Tell me what you’d do to me,”

A chuckle sounded from the speakers.

“I’d kiss your thighs... And work my way higher and higher. I’d tease you until you’d beg me to fuck you...”

“Please...” Keith was whimpering now. “Please, Shooter...”

“Good boy... I’d... I’d finger you open, preparing you for my cock... You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes... Yes!”

Shooter groaned, speeding up as Keith removed his hand, spreading his legs wide so he could make a show of circling a finger around his tight hole, which twitched at the intrusion. Hissing, he pushed further, passed the tight ring of muscle. One finger was a stretch, but it wasn’t painful. The uncomfortable feeling of being stretched out added to the pleasure, until any stiffness subsided. The sound of Shooter praising him, telling him to speed up or slow down made him breathless. He longed for the warmth of his body against him, touching him, so that Keith could return the pleasure.

“Mm, Do you like that?” Keith grinned. “Do you like what you do to me?”

“I do, baby... I love it. Ah! I wish I was there, so I could kiss you and make you feel good...”

Keith stopped pleasuring himself, eyeing the wardrobe in the corner.

“Don’t stop!” Shooter wailed, gasping as he forced himself to stop, making the darker haired boy smirk as he saw that he could make his friend just as much of a quivering mess.

Apprehensively, he sat up before walking out of the view of the camera, pulling a bag from under the pile of clothes and shoes that littered the closet.

“Blade?”

“I’m here,” He called back, hoping Shooter wouldn’t assume he’d had second thoughts and logged off. “I had an idea...”

“Oh yeah? Can you come back and tell me? I’m not done with you yet.”

Keith smirked at the box in his hand. “No, you’re not.”

“Huh?”

Shooter’s frown deepened as Blade sat back on the bed, picking at the sellotape that held the box together.

“What’s that?”

“Um... Well I got it a few days ago.” Keith felt his face grow hot at the confession. “It’s... Um... Well, I thought maybe, one day, we could use it.”

“Use what? What is it?”

Finally managing to rip the box open, he let the contents spill onto the bed, and studied Shooter’s face for disgust. To his surprise, he only found shock, which was quickly replaced by confusion and excitement.

“Is that a... Did you get a dildo?”

“It’s not just a dildo!” Keith moved on quickly, turning his face away from the screen, suddenly a little embarrassed. “It’s remote controlled...”

“Oh? Cool... So you can turn it up or down with a button or...?” He trailed off as he saw Blade shaking his head.

“No... You use an app on your phone.”

“... I don’t understand-”

“If you download the app and if I give you the code, you can control it!” Keith snapped, abruptly, wishing he had never showed him the toy.

“That’s...”

“We don’t have to-”

“Yes we do!”

The red paladin’s head snapped up at the eagerness in Sharp_Shooter’s voice. He was already grabbing his phone and setting to work on finding the application.

“Do you have any lube?”

Blinking, Keith opened and closed his mouth, no words coming out, until finally he coughed.

“Yes... Um... Yeah, I got some the other day... When I got this.”

“Hot. And batteries?”

“They were included...”

He could tell Shooter was grinning under the confines of his scarf. “The app’s installing. Why don’t you lay back and work yourself open for me? You can pretend it’s my fingers pressing inside you.”

Keith felt like his entire body was on fire as he immediately grabbed the tube of lube from the night stand, coating his fingers generously, leaving plenty to lather up the toy for later. Pressing a finger to the tight ring of muscle, he groaned, rubbing slightly before pushing in. The intrusion wasn’t hard, given the amount of tension that region had been receiving lately, but it was still a squeeze. He heard Shooter praise him as he pressed a second finger in. Blade wanted to give his friend his all.

“Oh... Ah, Shooter! Yes...”

“You’ll need more than that, baby. If you want that toy inside you.”

Keith obeyed, eagerly, pressing a third finger inside, hissing as he stretched himself open.

“I want you...” He whined. “I want it to be you fucking me!”

“I want you to suck the toy,”

He grabbed the toy, and moaned as he took it in his mouth. Every time he released his lips from the plastic, it made an audible pop.

“Fuck,” Shooter breathed, pumping his own dick hard and fast.

Taking this as a sign, Keith reached for the toy and the tube of lube, making sure to use plenty of the sticky substance when lathering it up.

“Please, Shooter... Let me put it in!”

“Do it! Let me see!”  
Keith spread his legs wider, giving the man on the screen a perfect view as he put the tip of the toy to his puckered hole. It hurt as he pushed, and he gasped at the discomfort, thankful that Shooter wasn’t hurrying him along or messing around with the controls as he got used to it. Gritting his teeth and groaning, he pushed further, until it was seated fully inside him.

It felt strange but good to be stretched so fully, and the red paladin shifted, pulling the toy out slightly and thrusting it back in.

“Ah! I’m ready... Please, please, please-”

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck me already!”

The vibrations started off small, and Keith opened his mouth in a silent ‘oh’, revelling in the sensations. It felt impossibly deep and he shuffled, wanting wrap his legs around Shooter’s trim waist if he was here.

“I love watching you squirm...”

The vibrations pulsed now, getting stronger, coming in waves, and Keith keened, gripping the sheets and raising his hips off of the bed. Stronger and stronger, he tried to match the pleasure, gasps and ragged breath as he moaned louder and louder.

“Oh! Ah, so good! Mmf~.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot! Keep going, baby, we’re not even half way there yet.”

Something strange happened, deep inside, and it made Keith cry out.

“Shooter! Ah, fuck! What is that? What are you, Ah! AH!”

“Mm~, I found the rotation setting.”

He could feel it, moving more fluidly, thrusting and curving slightly. To add to it, it was getting warmer and warmer, over stimulating him.

“Don’t stop!”

The vibrations cut out and Keith whined, glaring at the screen, where Shooter smirked, still stroking himself.

“Shooter, PLEASE... You have to do it, please!”

“Aw, Blade-y... You can’t be the only one having all the fun... Be a good boy and get on all fours.”

He sighed, but quickly rolled onto his stomach, lowering his chest to the bed and turning his head so he could see the others reaction. Shooter’s eyes were dilated with lust and his skin was flushed with heat and excitement.

“Now? Please, I need you- AH!”

The vibrations from before came back with a vengeance, paired with thrusting, which became faster, until-

“AH! Oh! Right there! Fuck me right there!”

“Oh...Fuck, Blade-”

Keith’s prostate had never been massaged so thoroughly or expertly before, and he felt himself lose control as he writhed, giving in completely to Shooter’s commands. 

“Louder, baby! I want to hear you!”

“Fuck... Fuck! It feels... You’re so good!” Keith rocked back and forth, trying to meet the thrusts of the toy, which of course stayed lodged inside him. He wanted to feel hands hold his hips and force him to be still, to feel kisses on the back of his neck and in his hair. He wanted to feel the whispered breath on his ear as he was praised. But this is as close as he could get to Shooter. And he wanted to savour every moment of it.

“C-can I- mm.... Can I touch myself?”

“Yes, baby, do it!”

He wasted no time as he reached down, grabbing his rock hard cock and pumping it, feeling the pleasure course through him. He felt impossibly hot, clutching the sheets, he bit down, trying to hold himself back from screaming.

“Come for me, Blade... Come for me, baby,”

As if on cue, Keith came, hard, crashing down and crying out, seeing stars as he let the pleasure wash over him. Seconds later, Lance came, moaning loudly, Blade’s name playing on his lips.

 

Keith lay in a breathless heap on his bed, having had half the mind to wipe himself down with the tissues he kept on his desk and pull his blanket over his hips. He still felt too hot and exhausted to go to the effort of getting dressed.

Shooter was in a similar state, as far as the red paladin could tell, laying on his own bed with his legs dangled over the edge. Only he hadn’t bothered to cover up.

“Woah...” The sound left the blue paladin like a sigh, content and relaxed.

Keith could only hum in response. 

“... We should use that again.” He said, a little more clearly.

“What? Now?” Keith stared at the screen in shock. Sure, Shooter had always seemed to have a good stamina but no one could have a refractory period that short without some kind of aphrodisiac.

“No,” The gamer laughed, rolling onto his stomach. “I meant next time.... I mean, that’s if you want to.”

He spared a glance at the vibrator he’d discarded on the nightstand before replying, trying to be casual, but not able to keep the embarrassed squeak out of his voice.

“Yeah... Yeah, we could do that...”

“Y’sure? You don’t sound convinced-”

“I’d like that.” The blush reformed in his cheeks as he heard a chuckle resonate from the speakers.

“Me too... If that’s what you want.”

“It is...”

“Sorry for putting that on you... Today of all days.” There was genuine regret in Shooter’s voice as he finally pulled a sheet over the bottom half of his body.

“No, I... I’m kind of glad. We both needed the release.”

Keith felt a twinge of guilt. That morning, when he’d been online in the training bay, the last thing he’d wanted was sex. Real or not. He’d made that clear to the blue paladin as soon as the flirting started.  
But everything, the events of that morning and the trip to the hospital had left him feeling strained and the stress had made him like a tight ball. But Keith was stunned at the realisation that it wasn’t the ecstasy that left him in a state of relaxation, but the intimacy from the pillow talk that came afterwards. After all the fun and seeing each other at their most private moments, it had felt like Keith could tell the paladin anything as they both came down from their high. It was this thought that drove Keith to ask the question.

“... Do you want to talk about what happened?”

The silence was thick, making Blade remember that he was alone in the room, aside from the laptop. But Shooter propped himself up, pulling a pillow under his head and chest so he could view the other paladin easily.

“Are you sure you want to know?” The question came out wearily, as if the thought alone tired him.

“If you feel okay enough to talk about it? Yes.” 

Shooter seemed to study him for a second before continuing.

“... Just my dad being an asshole. My mom needed him to go to her work and.... And we all needed him. But he just blew her off.” 

Keith swallowed, already suspecting the answer when he asked;

“Was he at work?”

Shooter laughed dryly, burying his face, still covered by the scarf, in the pillow.

“He says he was.”

“... But you know differently.”

“Damn right I do!” Keith flinched when the man on the screen seemed to explode with anger, a new found energy in his words as he sat himself up right and pulled his legs to his chest. “He was probably with his ‘colleague’. Did I tell you she’s someone he works with? I’ve seen her. She knows he has a family. She knows about my mom!”

“Shooter-”

“It was life or death, Blade... He had to be there! But he chose her over... Over...” 

“... Over you?” Keith filled in the blank, suddenly seeing how vulnerable his friend really was. “... It’s not your fault.”

“If I see him, I-”

“Don’t-”

“I’ll break his nose... I can’t take it anymore. He’s... I can’t-”

“Shooter... You’re not your dad. Don’t give him something to use against you.” 

The man on the screen swallowed a few times, letting out a shuddering breath as if he could exhale the rage like some demon from the damn exorcist. His shoulders lost some of their tension, but his eyes remained heavy and tired.

“You’re right... Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s alright.” Keith shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest. They felt heavy, but they weren’t shaking like they were earlier. “Just warn me next time.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cold water is useful for many things; cooling heated skin, numbing bruises and closing pores. And Lance loved it, although he had flinched when the biting cold water ran down his back making him want to wrap himself up in a warm towel and curl up by the radiator. But he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay under the shower until it felt refreshing rather than sharp, washing away the sweat from the day down the drain.

The blue paladin had always loved the water, especially as a kid, when he’d spent entire weekends at Lake Taujeer in the Altean forests with his family. His parents would laugh and take photos as the kids took turns jumping in or pushing each other under the water, and Lance would have to be dragged out when the time came to go to bed into the tents. His grandmother would pack a huge picnic, with homemade jams, preserves, sandwiches and little snacks.

The memory made his stomach twist and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep back the tears. Downstairs, Alicia and Josephine, Lance’s two older sisters, were busying themselves. As soon as they’d heard about their grandmother, they had rushed to the hospital, arriving shortly after Keith had left, with a storm of questions and tears. 

That was another thing. Keith. He’d cried on his fucking shoulder like he had any right to demand comfort from him, after the way he’d been treating him. Lance winced. As soon as he could, he’d find Keith and apologise to him. Probably Monday, since Hunk and Pidge hadn’t said anything about meeting up. Besides, he didn’t feel much like seeing his friends, if it meant that they’d have to help him pick up the pieces of today.

The Cuban felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter, like they had done more and more lately, at the thought of Keith hugging him, pulling him close. The familiar feel of him, the way he was gentle, yet firm. Lance longed for that closeness again, that intimacy. And then there was Blade, who had offered a whole different kind of affection. He’d wanted to tell him the full story; about his grandma and how he’d cried on Keith’s shoulder and how scared he was of the whole situation. But the truth was, he couldn’t. Blade would already be grieving for at least one person’s death today, he didn’t need the reminder. Still, he’d been able to distract Lance and relieve his stress in the most spectacular way. It was only the second time they’d had webcam sex, but damn, the gamer knew how to surprise Lance at every turn. He turned the water temperature down at the thought.

 

Lance didn’t feel much like eating, once they were all sat at the table. Lance, Raul, Bianca, Josephine and Alicia sat together in silence, having abandoned all attempts at conversation, all of which seemed to lead back to their grandmother. Bianca had cleared her plate first, excusing herself before silently going into the living room, her eyes still red raw. Raul’s jaw was hard set as he prodded at his pasta with a fork, seeming intent on putting as many holes in it as possible, while Alicia, next to him, busied herself with her phone. He assumed she was texting her fiance, or their mother, trying to get an update. Josephine was the only one who attempted to smile, but Lance guessed that had something to do with her twins, Lucas and Florence, who were persistently asking questions, like why their bisabuela had to go in an ambulance and if she’d like a get well soon card. They weren’t asking the question that was on all of their minds, thank god. Lance wasn’t sure if he could face telling his niece and nephew that their great-grandmother might not ever come home.

But they were old enough to understand that an ambulance was never a good-sign of health. He wasn’t even sure if they could remember when Magdalena had been sprily enough to scoop them up in her arms and read them bedtime stories. That thought alone made him more miserable than anything else that day. 

Zoe and Mia, the youngest of his siblings, seemed anxious while they sat at the other end of the table, the ‘younger’ end, but they were too busy pulling faces at Florence, Lucas and Alicia’s three-year-old, Sophie, to really offer much of an opinion. Still, whenever a phone rang or a text pinged, they looked up, fearing the worst but hoping for the best.

“More, please!” Sophie cried out, pushing her plate away from her. Alicia had stacked two pillows on her chair so the toddler could reach her dinner.

“I don’t think there is anymore, Reinita.” Alicia cood, going over to wipe the bolognese sauce from her face and kissing her on top of her light brown hair, exaggerating the sound, which made the little girl squeal in delight. Lance smiled at the sight as he strode over and scraped his left overs onto her plate.

“No worries, little princess, uncle Lance has some!”

Sophie began shovelling down the pasta, gratefully as Lance began his way to the living room.

“What do you say, Sophie?”

“Thank you, unca Lance!”

The blue paladin called out a quick ‘you’re welcome’ from the sofa, as he began tying his shoelaces, tucking the excess thread into his trainers and doing his best to ignore Josephine’s worried glances his way. And in true big-sisterly, mother-of-two fashion, she spoke with a tone that was half-reprimanding and half-concerned.

“You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry, and I’ve got work in less than an hour.”

“It’s cold out.”

“I’ll wear a coat.”

“You should call in sick-”

“Josie.” Lance finally looked up. “I can’t afford not to work and if I don’t do something useful, I’m going to lose it. I’ve got my phone on me.” Offering a weak smile, he stood up. The shoes were old and worn, but he couldn’t be bothered to replace them.

Josephine let out a huff, before walking past him, rubbing his hair until it stuck up at all angles.

“Hey, get off my hair! It plays a major part in my good looks!”

“What looks?”

He feigned a gasp as she walked back to the dining room, and Lance felt suddenly felt the world pressing in on him at her absence. The house was too quiet without the chaos and chatter of his family. But it was the silence of the living room that brought his attention to the shuffling coming from the bedroom; the only one on the ground floor. Sighing, he stepped cautiously towards the door, pushing it open, frowning at how dark, cold and empty it was without the warmth of his mima. 

“What are you doing?”

Lance could barely make out Bianca’s silhouette, with the only source of light in the room coming from the open door. She stood slowly, sniffing, before turning around.

“She might be in hospital for a while.” Her voice seemed tight, and Lance had to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “... So I’m packing her nightgown and crosswords.” She gave enough sniff, wiping furiously at her eyes. “And her knitting.”

Without realising it, he’d grabbed a couple tissues from the box on the dresser and held them out to the sixteen-year-old, who sat down heavily on the bed, clutching them to her face with shaking hands as an onslaught of sobs tore through her. The sight of her tears made Lance’s chest tighten and he found himself sat next to her, pulling her close into him.

“Hey, she wouldn’t want you to cry...”

She held on to him tightly until her sobs turned into short, shaky gasps, which barely left room for her to speak.

“Mama said- said that dad’ll go to the hospital when he g-gets home...”

Lance said nothing, but stiffened slightly. 

“He can take her night bag, right?” 

He shrugged, fingers pressed into his palms so hard that little red crescents formed where his nails dug into the skin.

“C-can’t he?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” It came out harsher than he meant, and the surprise and hurt was apparent on his sisters face. So he coughed and carried on. “He might go straight from work.”

“His boss should’ve let him go when mama called.”

“That’s if he was in the office.”

Bianca frowned, pushing herself away from her brother to study him.

“Why wouldn’t he be in the office?”

His heart hammered as he thumbled for an answer.

“He might’ve been at a meeting or something.”

Bianca shook her head, blowing her nose into the tissue.

“He’s not.” She said. “I filled out his diary this week-”

“Then maybe he didn’t tell you!” Lance snapped, immediately regretting raising his voice. “I... Um... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- Bianca, wait I’m sorry!” 

The door slammed shut and Lance suddenly found himself in a pitch black room, listening to his sister stomp up the stairs, followed more softly by someone else, probably Josephine. As the room flooded with light once again, Alicia stood in the doorway, fixing him with a vexed look.

“What did you say to her, Lance?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the time it took for Matt to arrive, Keith’s hair still hadn’t dried, making it hang longer and straighter than it normally was under the weight of the damp. Still, he couldn’t bothered drying it properly, instead opting to rub his head furiously with his towel until it stuck up in all directions. Well, at least it wasn’t dripping anymore.

Shiro and Allura had returned only ten minutes after he’d hung up with Shooter, while Keith was in the process of cleaning the toy, carefully sliding it back into the box and throwing it into the dark corner of his wardrobe just as the door to his room opened. He’d stood there, red faced, hand still on the closet handle when his brother had come in, eyeing Keith’s flushed face. He’d only been wearing a pair of loose fitting tracksuit bottoms and the layer of drying sweat that still clung to him.

Maybe he looked as guilty as he felt, nearly crumbling under Shiro’s scrutinising gaze and suspicious glances at the wardrobe, as if he could see through the wood. In any case, he’d seemed to buy Keith’s white lie that he’d been working out and was putting his yoga mat away, seeing as he didn’t ask any follow up questions, but for good measure, the red paladin grabbed the bag from it’s old hiding place and shoved it as far under his bed as he could the second Shiro left the room, after reminding that they were having people over.

He’d almost headbutted the wall when he’d remembered Pidge’s text from earlier, and took a hurried shower, washing away the sweat and the come that covered his abdomen and legs, chucking his trousers straight into the laundry bag that hung over the back of the bathroom door. It had been a miracle he’d still been able to stand, Keith thought, seeing as just moments before he’d been a writhing mess tangled in his own sheets and calling out his friends name. 

Wincing a little as he gave an experimental large step, he decided that there wasn’t as much pain as the thought. A dull ache was something he could put up with and hide easily from the others.

“Keith,” Matt said, in a way of greeting, pulling him into a brief hug and ruffling his already-nest-like hair. “You look like crap,”

“Thanks, you too, asshole.” He peered over Matt’s shoulder during the embrace, never admitting to himself that he had to stand on his tiptoes slightly to do so. “Where’s Pidge?” 

“Oh, she couldn’t make it. Apparently your English Literature teacher sent your class an email. Something about a paired assignment. Anyway, she went to Hunk’s to get a head start.”

Keith let out a groan at the dreaded word ‘paired’. Assignments didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, they gave him an excuse to stay home or at the library where he wouldn’t be dragged to ridiculous parties or group outings, but ‘paired’ assignments were a thing of the devil. Especially since he tended to clash with everyone in that damned class, always getting stuck with either someone who couldn’t give a scuttling fuck about pulling their weight and leaving Keith to do all the work, or someone who wanted to dominate the whole project. The latter irked him more. At any rate, he’d need to check his emails later. Although the school was still closed pending repairs, at least three of his teacher’s seemed determined stay on top of their workload.

“Group projects aren’t that bad, Keith,” Allura chipped in, linking her arm with Shiro’s and leaning a head on his shoulder. “It’s supposed to teach you teamwork skills,”

‘Fuck teamwork skills,’ Keith thought to himself, knowing better than to start this argument with Allura up again. Instead he shrugged and followed Matt into the kitchen. Like most apartments, the kitchen, living room and dining room were actually part of the same large space divided by furniture.

“So, what have you been up to?” Matt mused, as he pulled out six bottles of beer, a bag of chips and some dips out of a grocery bag, placing them on the table.

“Not much,” Keith said, leaning back against the counter, frowning as he tried to take in what was different about the older of the Holt siblings. “... Did you have a hair cut?”

“No,” Matt said quickly, placing a hand over his fringe, which had been combed, hiding the skin underneath completely. “I just brushed it.”

Shiro eyed his business partner skeptically, grinning as he easily batted the hand out of the way.

At a glance, nothing seemed out of place, until Keith zeroed in on his forehead, where there was a large perfect circle in the center, the top it nearly touching his hairline.

“... Why’s your head two different colours?” Shiro asked, trying to swallow his laughter.

“I guess your arm’s not that bad then.” Matt rolled his eyes before sweeping his hair back over the mark. “Pidge’s idea of a joke.”

“What joke?” It was Keith’s turn to ask.

“She came into my room, slapped a huge stick-on dildo on my forehead and yelled ‘you’re a unicorn’ before running out the room!” Matt whined, and the whole room stayed silent for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Where did she even get that?” Shiro asked, taking a moment to breath.

“I don’t know!” The younger collapsed into a chair, looking exasperated for possibly the first time in his life. “She left before I could ask her!”

Keith sniggered. She had to have got it from ‘Pampered’ the day she’d followed him into the adult shop. Quickly pulling his mobile from the back pocket of his jeans, he fired a quick text to the girl in question. 

‘’Purely scientific and objective’, Pidge?’ 

The reply came back seconds later.

‘I guess you could call it slapstick comedy.’

He ignored the pun and rejoined the conversation, which had gone from dildoes, to what foundation could cover a mark like that, to pizza. Keith’s stomach ached at the thought of food, having not eaten since that morning, which felt like weeks ago. To his relief it was quickly decided that they’d get a pizza each and some sides to share and Keith didn’t even look at the menu before stating that he’d have the Tex-Mex chicken Pizza with extra sweetcorn.

 

“Come on, this game is rigged!” Matt yelled, leaning over the back of the sofa space where Shiro sat, trying to obstruct his view.

“Mario Kart never lies, Matt.”

“No, but you do, asshole!”

Yoshi went over the edge of a giant red mushroom, causing another string of curses to spill from Matt.

“You just can’t play for shit.” Keith added, ducking to avoid a blow to the face with one of the couch cushions.

Matt practically screamed as another blue shell hit Yoshi, setting him even further behind than he already was. 

“Sorry,” Allura chirped, zooming past him as Princess Peach. 

“Fuck!” 

Allura was already a lap ahead of him, but they’d already over taken him twice, and they were now a lap ahead.

Keith placed the remote down as he crossed the finish line at first place, shortly followed by Allura and then Shiro, the score page coming up before Matt could complete his first lap. Again.

“How did you ever get your driver’s licence?” Shiro stood, picking up the two empty bottles and heading into the kitchen.

“People weren’t throwing explosives at me when I was taking my test,” Matt pouted, tossing the remote on the seat next to him.

“You co-own an advanced gaming company worth nearly two-million dollars, and yet you still can’t beat us at Mario Kart?” The mayor’s daughter grinned slyly.

“I never get any of the good boosters!”

“Can someone keep an ear out for the pizza man?” Shiro called behind him, popping the caps off of two more bottles. “He’s running late.”

It was hardly surprising, seeing as the snow was now the deepest it had ever been all winter, without any sign of stopping. The snow still fell at an alarming rate, but and it wouldn’t be a total surprise if the pizza place called them and said they’d have to cancel.

“Wow,” Allura said, folding her arms around herself as she pulled her knees to her chest, as if the cold was coming in whenever she looked out of the french windows. “The snow is really coming down.” 

“You sure you don’t want to stay over?” Shiro sat back down on the couch, handing the bottle to Matt.

“Nah, I’ve got to be up early tomorrow. I told Katie that I’d give her a lift to the library in the morning.”

Keith stood, aiming to go get his jacket, suddenly feeling the cold, when the doorbell rang. Pressing his finger to the buzzer, he leaned into the microphone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I have pizza here for a Mr Shirogane?” The voice was distorted through the speaker, sounding slightly crackled.

“I’ll buzz you up, we’re on the top floor.” Keith hung up, but not before he heard the man whisper to himself;

“The elevator better fucking work.”

Behind him, the red paladin could hear the plates clacking together as they were pulled from their cupboards, along with cutlery, glasses and bowls, which were all placed on the coffee table, once the array of console remotes and game disc boxes were shoved to one side. It looked cozy, Keith thought, when they weren’t eating at the seated counters or the large dining table. The latter of which went unused for the most part, except for when Shiro had some of his employees over for an informal meeting. The little glass table was barely big enough to hold all of the plates, but that just seemed to add to the scene that Keith had grown to see as his family.

 

It took a couple of minutes, but there was finally a tune-like knock from the door, five rhythmic beats followed by two sharper ones, and the paladin was shook from his daze, grabbing the money Shiro had left on the counter as he went to answer.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although he’d never admit it, Lance used to love his job. Sure, the pay sucked, and he usually had to deal with some shitty customers, but he enjoyed the journey from the pizzaria to whatever address he had to deliver to. In fairness, he’d been sixteen, and he’d finally scraped together enough money to buy a dilapidated old motorbike from a sixty-something-year-old man who had a habit of buying archaic vehicles with the intention of fixing them up. Lance used to admire the motocross bike, which had seemed ideal for riding about in rural areas. It had great suspension and was supposedly capable of hard turns, which meant it was great for off-road detours, like a dirt bike. Raul used to ride on the back of it with him, back in the day. It took some time to fix it up, which nearly cost him as much as the bike did, but he was happy with the result. It was blue, and it worked. 

Nearly two years down the line, it was a surprise that it hadn’t been written off, only just passing its MOT test just six months ago. He could probably afford a new bike, second hand, but durable, only Lance couldn’t bare the let it go. He’d grown fond of the rusted old thing, even if it did sound like a dying bear whenever he accelerated, and the brakes left a lot to be desired.

The cold bit through his jacket, the only source of warmth coming from the box strapped behind him, containing a fuck-tonne of pizza and sides. He’d guessed they were for some sort of frat party. Or a sorority. Fuck, how he hoped it was a sorority. Lance suspected that one of the reasons for his growing resentment of his job was that it wasn’t like in the movies, where a hot girl would answer the door, talk all seductive and then ride the pizza man senseless. No, usually they just paid for the pizza, complained and went back inside.

In any case, he’d been surprised when he’d seen the address was far from the student district of Altea. In fact, it was about four miles in the opposite direction, in the most expensive part of the city, which was dominated by office buildings, fancy cafes and restaurants and also high rise apartments, with rooms bigger than the entire first floor of Lance’s house.

The snow was falling thicker now, and he’d passed at least five pizzerias on his run so far. For a moment, he wondered why the customer hadn’t just ordered from somewhere closer, but he pushed the thought aside, seeing how he was glad for the long trip. Another thing he liked about his job was that he was alone to think for the most part. And while he enjoyed the company of other people, he was happy for the headspace. His grandma was the first thing on his mind. Lance had received a text from his mom the second he got the order. He’d been flooded with relief to hear that his grandmother was stable, and would survive the night, but the joy was short lived. Strokes, even in minor cases, could have a lasting affect. Paralysis on one side of the body was common, confusion, loss of function... He’d read his mother’s medical journals over and over again growing up, seeing as she was the reason why he wanted to be a doctor or a nurse. And if he remembered correctly, the stroke must have occured on her right hemisphere of her brain, if it was her left side that had succumbed to its effect first. He couldn’t remember what functions the left side held, which differed from the right. Still, it was some consolation that his mima’s stroke had been minor. It was entirely possible that she’d come out of this unscathed. But Lance didn’t put his hopes on it.

His father was another issue. He pushed the thought deep down, feeling hot, tired and angry at the same time whenever Nicholas McClain entered his mind. How much he wanted to tell his mum, how he wanted to expose the bastard for the lying, cheating scumbag that he was. But he’d been right about one thing. Lance’s mother would be heartbroken, and his family would be torn apart. Everyone would blame him, and the longer he kept this secret, the one he’d been keeping for three years, the more the blame was going to lay on him.

That thought lead to Bianca. He hadn’t meant to snap at her, or raise his voice. Gods above, he knew she’d been through more than enough in the last twenty-four hours without her brother losing his temper. Both Alicia and Josephine had really laid into him for that one, trying to drill him for answers and reprimanding him for not being sympathetic to their dad’s grieving process. He sneered. If he really had been choosing his job over his own mother, Lance would have been pissed, but he’d at least have tried to understand that everyone grieves differently. After all, Lance was also throwing himself into his work so he wouldn’t have to dwell so much on the events of the day. Not that he wasn’t.   
But that fact that his dad had chosen someone else over the needs of his family? Of his wife, mother, children and grandchildren? That had nearly sent him over the edge.

... Then again, Lance had turned to Blade in all this. Maybe he was just as bad.

His head had begun to spin and ache, and he checked the address once again before taking the final turning. He was already late, what with the snow, the traffic and his trash bike, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about reducing the delivery fee. He’d deal with the repercussions later.

When he’d parked up, opened the box and pulled out the large canvas bag containing the food, Lance gaped up at the building. It was at least thirty stories tall and the signs next to the doorbells showed that there was a private gym in the basement, including a hot tub and a sauna, and each floor had two large apartments. Pressing the button next to the number fifty-nine, he noticed the sixtieth room was missing. Maybe it was a roof garden or something. 

“Hello?”

The voice was barely audible of the wind. He quickly checked the pronunciation of the name, hoping he’d got it right.

“Hi, I have a pizza for a Mr Shirogane?”

“I’ll buzz you up, we’re on the top floor.” 

The intercom cut out, and Lance muttered to himself.

“The elevator better fucking work.”

Furnished with two sofas, a phone, a couple tables with flowers on them, some paintings and old pictures of Altea on the walls, the hallway resembled a top-class hotel lobby more than a city apartment. At the end, two lifts stood, doors open, and Lance picked one, hitting the button that was labelled ‘penthouse.’ The lift jerked, making it feel like his stomach was still on the ground floor while he glided up the tenth, watching the numbers on the counter turn as he raised higher and higher. Behind him, he could see out of the window as his bike, the road and city grew smaller and smaller, until he felt like he was flying. Pressing his forehead against the elevator wall, he stared, starry eyed at the view. Even under a thick blanket of snow, Altea was beautiful. He heard the ‘ding’ and the doors open when he’d reached the top floor, but he waited a moment, staring at the view. His bike was little more than a dot way down below him, and the dark and the snow made it hard to make out specific points of the city. But Lance knew that no one could possibly get used to this view. He found it hard to breath as he stepped out of the lift.

He’d been right about the top floor. It was by far the biggest, most expensive apartment in the building, and the space where the second flat should have been was empty aside from the odd bit of garden furniture. There were benches, a few tables and a telescope, and he was willing to bet that under the snow, there was grass, where there wasn’t concrete. He longed to go out there, to peer over the edge of the wall that seperated the garden from the sheer drop below, but the way the snow swirled and the tree’s branches bent, made him think twice. Instead, he tore himself away and knocked on the door, waiting for whatever arrogant rich kid who had ordered a pizza from the opposite side of town.

The door swung open harshly a second later, and Lance barely registered the look of shock and horror on the recipient’s face, seeing as he was too busy trying to silence the alarm bells screaming inside his head.

“K... Keith?”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two stood in silence, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. He had no clue how long, really, but Shiro eventually came up behind him to see what was taking so long. His mouth felt dry, his face hot as he took in Lance. His shock must have matched his, and it wasn’t until he registered the red t-shirt branded with the logo to ‘JoJo’s Pizza Place’ that it dawned on him. Fate must have been holding a grudge against him for a long time for Lance to be the person delivering his damn pizza. It seemed like everywhere he went today, the Cuban was just round the corner.

“Lance... What... Um... How much will it be?”

He cleared his throat and reached for the receipt tucked into his pocket. 

“Uh... Fourty-one dollars...”

Shiro’s prosthetic fell heavily on Keith’s shoulder as he extended his other hand to Lance.

“Hey, we met at the hospital, right?” 

Lance seemed to snap out of whatever haze he was in before Keith did.

“Yeah, um... I mean, yes sir.”

Shiro opened the door wider and stepped to the side, pulling his brother with him.

“Keith, aren’t you going to invite him in?”

Keith swallowed, trying to find the words to let Lance in or the strength to slam the door shut. Instead he just croaked out:

“Do you wanna come in?”

Lance seemed shell shocked as he stepped into the apartment, taking in the large living room, kitchen and dining room and glancing longingly at the balcony doors. Maybe he wanted to throw himself from the building. Finally he seemed to take in the two adults sat, staring at him on the sofa.

“... Hi,” 

Keith stepped forward, taking Lance by the crook of the arm and pulling him towards the kitchen, grabbing the bag and placing it on the counter.

“Uh...” Lance murmured and Keith glowered at him.

“What are you doing here, Lance?”

“Nothing... I mean... Not nothing, I... I just got the order...”

Keith allowed the logical part of his mind to take over for a second. There was no way Lance could have known his address unless he’d followed him home, which was unlikely. Furthermore, he probably wouldn’t have ever shown up out of nowhere, even if he’d been here a hundred times. Still, it felt like an invasion. Lance, in his kitchen, in his home, just seemed out of place. Like two worlds colliding in the worst possible way.

“... You never told me you were a delivery boy.”

“I never told you a lot of things...” Lance shuffled uncomfortably, removing his hand from the counter and looked the red paladin dead in the eyes. “Don’t tell anyone...”

“Don’t tell anyone what?” Keith folded his arms and leaned back against the cupboards. “That you work? That’s more than a lot of people in our year, Lance.”

“No, that’s not-”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Keith said finally, meaning every part of it. The Cuban had nothing to be ashamed of in that regard. In his own way, he had always been hard working when it suited him. Besides, Lance’s personal life wasn’t his business to tell.

“... Thanks...”

“... And you won’t tell anyone where I live?” 

Lance looked taken aback, trying to find any trace of mockery in Keith’s features.

“No... But why wouldn’t you want people to know where you live? Jesus, you must be loaded... I always thought you... Y’know, since you were living with your brother, you might be... Not as well off.”

He tried to stop himself from raising an eyebrow, but Lance’s point was valid. Shiro had been ‘loaded’ when he’d taken Keith in, and that can’t be said for most brothers or even foster parents. 

“I’m not... Shiro is.”

Keith had never disclosed the details of his brother’s job to anyone in his school, even his former best friend. To date, Pidge was in the only one who knew, and that was only because she was in the same boat, what with Matt being every bit as rich as Shiro is. Maybe even more so, since he still lives at home and doesn’t pay as many bills, meaning his expenditure is dramatically less than his business partners.

“I didn’t want friends who only wanted me for money. And I didn’t want to be known as just ‘Shiro’s brother’. So... Yeah, I kept it a secret.”

Lance seemed to understand, even if he hadn’t quite adjusted to the thought that a guy he’d known for years had such a drastically different lifestyle to him.

“I should get back to work...” Lance said finally, smiling a little. “I’ll keep your secret, if you keep mine?”

Keith nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Lance with secrets anymore, but he had agreed to give him a second chance as a friend. Giving someone a chance usually meant opening yourself up to risks of betrayal. And the Cuban wasn’t vicious at heart.

“Deal.” He said, handing Lance the fifty-dollars and shaking his head when he started counting out the change. “Keep it. It’s a tip for riding in the snow.”

Keith hesitated in the doorway when Lance headed towards the lift, but closed it behind him, pulling his jacket tighter around his torso to brace himself against the cold. Falling into step beside him, he stepped into the elevator, where his friend raised an eyebrow.

“You coming with me or something?”

“No, I just... I wanted to ask you how your grandma was doing.”

Even if he’d known about Lance’s job, he wouldn’t have expected him to go to work right after a family tragedy. Especially given how upset he’d been that lunch time.

“She’s... She’s fine. I’m going to see her tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Good... Y’know, I met your mom today. She was the one that checked me over.”

Once again, Lance seemed surprised, eyeing Keith suspiciously.

“I thought you said you read her name tag?”

“I did. When she was checking me over.”

The ground floor was far colder than the apartment, and Keith felt underdressed as a draft blew into the lift as soon as the doors opened. Outside, the snow was still piling up and the wind howled as it snaked through the streets.

Lance zipped up his jacket as high as could and Keith followed him into the parking lot, freshly laid snow crunching under his feet.

“Are you sure you should be driving when it’s like this?”

“We’ll be fine!”

“We?”

“Me and my baby,” 

Keith gaped at the rust bucket of a bike as Lance replaced the bag back into the box on the back. It looked as if it would break apart the moment it hit its first speed bump.

“Lance, you can’t be serious about riding that thing in this weather!”

“Why not? I rode it here!” His voice was muffled by the helmet, the padding pushing his cheeks up until he looked like a hamster. The rider had to lift his viser, when it fogged up immediately, when he took a breath out. “I’m starting the think you knew where I worked and that’s why you ordered a pizza from the other side of town!”

Keith blanched, and he could hear Lance laugh, but it was quickly drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle roaring the life. It seemed to cough and whimper as the engine died.

Cursing, Lance tried again, this time using the kickstand. The bike revved but nothing happened. The third and final time, it backfired, making Keith jump backwards about three feet in surprise, heart hammering in his chest.

“Damnit!” Lance snapped, dismounting and walking around the vehicle.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know! Everything might’ve frozen! Shit...”

Keith bit his lip, glancing at the garage entrance. 

“Do you want to call a mechanic?”

“I can’t afford one right now.” Irate, he crouched, checking the tank. “It was fine on the way here!” 

“We could call Hunk? He’s pretty good with machines and he could give you a lift home.”

But Lance just shook his head.

“Bae is busy on that group project, and his mom won’t let him drive when it’s like this.”

Reaching for the keys he always kept in his jacket pocket, Keith stepped forward.

“Lance, it’s cold. I’ll lend you the money and you can put your bike the garage until the mechanics get here.”

Surprise and embarrassment crossed what Keith could see of his face, and it struck him as familiar. The eyes emotive and more telling than the flirting that generally came from Lance’s smiles. But he shrugged it off, too cold to care.

“I don’t want to owe you, Keith.”

“And I don’t feel like getting frostbite. Come on, the snow’s only going to get worse.”

Defeated, Lance gave in, grabbing the bike by the handle bars and kicking up the brake stand.

“Lead the way.”

 

The Pizza was nearly cold by the time Keith got round to eating it, after locking up the garage and finding the number of a mechanic. Matt, feigning hurt that Keith hadn’t asked him to take a look at the bike, followed Lance downstairs to have a look, although he offered no promises that he’d be able to fix it, having only brought the tools necessary to see to Shiro’s arm. This was later confirmed when he strode back into the apartment, hands covered with oil, followed by a dismal looking Lance.

“It’s fucked.” He exclaimed, making his way to the sink to wash his blackened hands. “The brakes, gears and oil are all frozen and the fuel tank is leaking. He’s lucky he had enough petrol to make it here.”

“How much is it going to cost?” Lance asked, although he sounded like he’d rather not hear the answer.

“A lot. But seeing as you’re friends with Pidge, I’ll only charge you for the parts.” 

Lance brightened a little, thanking Matt and sitting down at the coffee table, where Allura had placed an extra plate, glass and cutlery for Lance.

Keith sunk down next to him, in the only available space and tucked in.

“I thought you looked familiar. You and Pidge look identical. Except, y’know...”

“Except that I’m a guy?”

“No, that you’re taller,”

Keith smirked into his glass.

“Lance didn’t know Pidge was a girl until last year.”

Lance flushed red and Matt burst out laughing.

“She does that. How did you find out?”

“... I walked into the girls bathroom with her by accident.”

“All the girl started screaming at him and he didn’t get why Pidge was allowed in.”

“She never corrected me! I don’t know how everyone else knew!”

Keith reached for another slice of Tex Mex pizza and a handful of potato wedges.

“And.” Lance turned on Keith. “Neither of you told us that your brother’s are the creators of Voltron!”

“Oh?” Shiro said, taking pouring a glass of wine. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I spend hours on that game! The graphics are amazing, the story mode is brilliant AND the avatars are hot!”

Shiro laughed. “Yeah, it took us years to develop it. We met in Japan, when Matt was a transfer student there and I was studying electronics.” He extended his metal arm to Lance, who inspected it wonderment. “Matt’s the more technical side of the whole thing. He got bored one week and ended up replacing my old prosthetic arm with this.”

“Hey,” Matt said, through a mouthful of pizza. “You kept complaining that your arm didn’t look as cool as the Winter Soldier’s or Edward Elric’s, so I made some improvements! Anything to stop you bitching!”

“Wow, that’s... You made this? You’re as good as Pidge!”

Keith tuned out the chatter. It wasn’t a huge surprise to him that Lance liked the Voltron game, seeing as it was a great way to meet new people. No doubt some poor twat had to put up with his senseless flirting.

He only started paying attention again when Matt came back into the living room after answering a phone call.

“Sorry, buddy. My friend who was going to pick up your bike said he’s snowed in. And all the busses have stopped.”

“Ah, crap.” Lance muttered, pulling out his phone. “Is there a motel near here or-”

“Nonsense.” Allura cut in, giving Shiro and Keith a pointed look.

“You can stay here,” Shiro said, warmly and Keith choked on his drink.

“What?”

“If the whole city’s on gridlock, then Matt’ll need to stay here anyway. And besides, there isn’t a motel nearby for another mile.”

Lance seemed just as taken aback as Keith, and he tried to object, but finally relented, saying that he’d need to call his mom so she wouldn’t be wondering where he was. Keith, on the other hand, was trying to swallow his pride. Three days ago, he could barely stand to be in the same room as Lance. Now he was expected to spend the night with him? He knew he was being irrational and that Shiro would never allow Keith to refuse without an explanation. And tonight didn’t feel like the night to come out, talk about his failed kiss and two years of torment that would probably send his brother into an overprotective rage. So instead he excused himself, pretending to go look for a spare pillow in his bedroom, where instead he was pacing back and forth, trying to still the hammering in his chest. He couldn’t put up with Lance for a whole night, not when he’d end up making a fool of himself. What would he even say? 

On top of that, he’d told Shooter he’d talk to him tonight, which would be impossible if Lance was going to be around to eavesdrop. Keith thought about sending a text to Shooter, saying he’d call him in the morning, but it sounded too impersonal, given how upset he’d been that morning. No, he’d call him. If he was quiet and discreet, Lance would never know. He could call him and explain why he couldn’t talk that night.

Hitting dial next to Shooter’s name, he waited patiently, listening to the ringing. Somewhere else, down the hallway, a familiar song that he must have heard on the radio started playing.

‘‘Cause I may be bad but I’m perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it-’

“Hey, beautiful, you won’t believe what’s happened.” Shooter’s voice was tired but upbeat.

“Hey, I’m sorry I can’t...”

“Can’t what?” 

Keith’s heart hammered in his chest. He could hear Shooter through the earpiece, but he sounded closer and further away at the same time.

“You there, Babe?”

“Yeah... Yeah, I’m here...”

He edged closer to his bedroom door and opened it a crack.

“You okay?” He was louder now, although his voice hadn’t raised in volume.

“I’m... Yeah, I’ve got people over tonight, so I can’t... Talk,” He pulled the phone away from his ear, but he could still hear him loud and clear.

“No worries, man, I’m kind of stuck somewhere anyway. My bike got frozen and-”

Keith didn’t hear the rest. He just stood staring down the hallway. Lance had his back to him, clearly heading to the bathroom, with his own phone pressed firmly to his ear. Shaking, he raised the phone again, whispering, so the man in front wouldn’t hear him.

“I’ve got to go, Shooter...”

“Oh? Right, okay, uh... I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Keith couldn’t answer. He only just about managed to pull himself away from the door and sit on the bed in time, before his knees gave out. The room spun and his hands were shaking.

“Blade?”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Are you-”

The phone shut off and Keith let it fall on the bed, burying his head in his hands.

“You there?” Although the phone was off, Keith could still hear him. 

He could hear him say bye, even though he knew that he’d hung up. 

He could hear him walk passed his bedroom.

He could hear Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :D


	8. Small Crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!! I'm so sorry for the delay! I was planning on having this chapter out weeks ago, but I ended up covering at work every day (including weekends) for two and half weeks and couldn't find the time to write! And then when I finally had a break, I got sick! T.T 
> 
> This chapter has been split in two! So chapter nine is already well underway! I apologise in advance for any spelling eras! I really wanted to get this chapter out as soon as I could, so it might be rushed! DX 
> 
> But I have some GOOD NEWS!!! I've been thinking about turning Virtually Yours into a fan web-comic series at some point... I'm not 100% sure when this will be, but I will continue it as a written story! If you'd like me to turn this into a comic, let me know and I will begin confirming dates and setting up somewhere to post it!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience, and I'm so sorry for the wait! Let's get straight to the Klance! ;D

As much as he tried, Keith couldn’t calm the hammering in his chest and the nausea from earlier came back with a vengeance everytime he let out a breath. His vision blurred at the edges, with each pulsing of pain through his head, and he hadn’t realised how hard he’d been clutching his phone until he heard case pop off under the strain. He tossed it to the side.  
Somewhere in the apartment, Lance was laughing, loud and sharp, like music, only it did nothing to ease his nerves. There was no way, in the history of man, that so many coincidences could have happened in one day. But there was no denying that Lance had answered the call to Shooter. And the more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed in hindsight. The flirting, the cocky attitude, those eyes, that tan... That damned voice. If nothing else, Keith should have recognised that damn voice that he’d heard almost every day since he was fourteen. But Shooter had seemed so different, yet the same. It was like he’d remet Lance and had a blank slate, his judgement not clouded by years of embarrassment and torment. It was the side of Lance he had wanted ever since he’d developed feelings for him.

And there were conversations with Shooter that had seemed so deep, a stark contrast to the shallow Cuban he’d known. His father, for one... Lance had always seemed like the kind of guy that went on fishing trips with his dad and would proudly repeat all the happy memories with his own kids someday. And his grandma... Keith had heard that from Lance himself. But he wondered if the life and death matter that Shooter had cursed Mr McClain about had been about the matriarch. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, but it did nothing to help him breath. Those conversations had seemed more sensitive and intimate than any pictures, videos or dirty text messages the two had ever sent to each other. Only hours before he had been...  
The acid in his stomach burned his throat as it threatened to resurface. He’d have to tell Lance. He’d have to stop talking to Shooter. But then who would either of them talk to? Lance had Hunk, he supposed, even if he couldn’t talk about his dad with his family. Keith had... Well he had Shiro and Allura. But they didn’t need to know. It would mean a lecture about online security, safe sex and a shit-tonne of questions about what Lance was like in the real world. Pidge was a viable option, seeing as she already knew that Keith had been talking to Shooter. Hell, she’d met Lance’s online persona and knew him personally. Plus she wasn’t the kind to let bias cloud her judgement. Still, it felt wrong, telling her. It would be asking her to keep a secret, an intimate secret from their friends, and although Keith had never thought of himself as moral, he couldn’t drag her into his mess. His last option, after completely ruling our Coran, the school counsellor, was Lotor. Lotor was disconnected from the group, apart from himself and Hunk, but he wouldn’t discuss it with him. The only problem was that his opinion of Lance was probably even lower than the red paladin’s. But as long as Keith himself stayed balanced, he could at least ask him for his advice. There were too many things going through his head for him to keep to himself. Against his better judgement...

But that didn’t solve the issue. Lance was still in the living room. He’d have to face him, tonight, before he came looking. Fuck, where was he going to sleep? Keith panicked, looking at the posters and furniture in his room. The blue paladin would recognise the bedroom if he saw it. Maybe that would be a good way to break the news? No, no no. The last thing he needed was a catastrophic outburst with Allura, Matt and Shiro as witnesses. 

The first step to fixing this mess seemed simple enough. Keith had grabbed his phone, replaced the back cover and began scrolling through his photo gallery. The pictures, videos and audio clips were deleted in a few short taps. That just left the messages. Over the last three weeks, over four thousand messages had been sent between them, including the media content, and he couldn’t scroll through, scrutinising every message until he was just left with the non-sexual, yet still highly sensitive, texts. The messages, he supposed, could stay, since no doubt Lance would try to contact him later. He already had one text saying ‘hope your okay’ with five kisses, a heart and kissy face emoji following them. As if on instinct, he silenced the chat, and for good measure, turned down the volume on his phone. It wouldn’t even vibrate if a message came through.

Staring at the door, he thought about having to face him, with the knowledge of who he really was. He could avoid him, and Lance probably wouldn’t find that odd. After all, he’d spent the last year and a half avoiding him at school. But Shiro would notice something was wrong. It was a miracle he hadn’t come looking for him already.

As if on cue, there was a knock from the door and Keith barely registered that he’d left the bed, flew across the room until his shoulder met the wooden door with a deafening bang, just as it had begun to open. 

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice sounded alarmed and confused, and Keith could feel the vibrations of the following knock against his sore shoulder, which was still pressed firmly against the entrance. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Shiro! I fell, is all.”

“Right, well, could you let me in? I’ve got a spare duvet for Lance.”

And there it was. The inevitable contact.

“Uh, sure... Is he with you?”

“No, why?”

Tearing himself away from the door, he opened it just enough to peer out. Shiro stood with the duvet tucked under his arm, frowning as he searched his younger brother. Keith opened the door properly and slammed it shut again once his brother was safely inside.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah... Look, could Matt sleep in here tonight?”

Setting down the duvet, Shiro folded his arms and leaned against the wall, confused.

“Why?”

“I just... I don’t want Lance in my room.”

“... Why?”

“I just don’t!”

Shiro’s eyes trailed back to the wardrobe, where he’d seen Keith standing around awkwardly earlier that day. Although he’d taken precaution to stash the toy in an old gym kit he kept at the foot his bed, hidden in plain sight, his cheeks still burnt with shame.

“... What’s going on, Keith?”

“Nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing. You’ve been acting off all day.”

Keith spread his hands, and shrugged.

“It’s been a funny kind of day. Look, can Matt stay in here or not?”

“... I guess.” The red paladin nearly sighed in relief, until Shiro cut him off. “But you have to stay in the living room with him.”

“Why?” He sounded more whiny than he intended.

“Because he’s your friend. It’d be rude to just leave him out there all night.”

“But, Shiro-”

“That’s my conditions, Keith. Unless there’s a reason why you don’t want to?”

Biting his tongue and fighting the urge to scream out the entire list of reasons why he didn’t want to be with Lance right now, he grabbed his duvet and followed his brother to the living room.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lance swiped his finger across the screen of his phone absentmindedly, trying to seem busy with a text. He’d already called his mom, who’d been relieved to hear he had a bed for the night, but still scalded him for going out to work in the first place. But she had pointed out that the road from the rural district of Altea to the centre of city was not so congested with traffic, despite the snow patches where the salt trucks had forgone salting the most unused country lanes. She’d offered to come pick him up, but he politely declined. Sure, he wanted his own bed and he wanted to be with his family, but he didn’t want to worry about his mom getting stuck somewhere along the way. That, and she needed to rest, even though Lance knew she’d probably spend the night sat up in the living room or trying to busy herself. She’d never been a heavy sleeper.

Then there was Blade. He’d never been so abrupt with him before, and tightness in his voice had worried Lance. Had he done something wrong, earlier? He’d been certain Blade had wanted it as much as he did. The blue paladin shook his head and forced the thought away. He had other things to worry about. Like why Keith kept watching him like he expected an attack or something..

It shouldn’t have made much difference, really, seeing as his former friend had a resting bitch face, which always made him look moody and pissed off. Convenient, really, since that seemed to be his general state of existence. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Keith probably felt like Lance was invading his home, but it wasn’t like he’d been relying on his bike breaking down. His grandmother would have called it God’s will, but Lance called it karma finally getting him back for every time he flirted with some girl or teased his brother and sisters.

But honestly, he didn’t expect Keith to be as disgusted with his presence as he was. Not after their conversation about starting over and the way the younger had held him that morning. It made his stomach tighten just receiving a look like the ones he was getting. He spared a glance at Keith, who was thankfully busy placing pillows and duvets on the two sofas, which were adjacent to one another, so they’d be lying in an ‘L’ shape.

Keith’s hair was down, like usual, but now he wore a baggy pair of pyjama bottoms, red with small black skull and crossbones. His T-Shirt had the logo or album cover of some band he’d never heard of. It read ‘The Strange Case of...’ written on top and ‘Halestorm’ written underneath. If someone asked him which name was the band’s name, he wouldn't have known.

Shiro had handed him a pair of black PJ bottoms and a blue t-shirt, which he assumed belonged to Keith, since they seemed way to small for the older brother. They only just about fit him, even though the ends of the legs ended halfway down his shins. On Keith, they might have brushed the floor.

“Pick one.”

It took a moment for him to register that Keith was talking to him. 

“Er... One what?” 

He rolled his eyes as he spoke, clearly exasperated. “A couch.” 

Lance blinked, looking between the sofa’s. It didn’t matter, really. Both were the same, but he still felt like there was somehow a wrong answer.

“I don’t mind.” He said, shrugging.

Keith rolled his eyes again and sat down heavily the sofa facing the windowed wall. In the dark, Lance could barely make out the outline on the railing which separated balcony from the death-drop on the other side.

He opened his mouth to say something, even though he didn’t know what. He knew better than to ask Keith if he was okay, but at the same time, the tension in the room was so heavy that Lance wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t break under the weight of it. But before he could say anything he might regret, his phone rang in his hand so suddenly that he almost dropped it.

Lance hit answer before he checked the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“You’re mom said you were stuck at work.”

Lance felt his chest tighten, and he barely registered the pain in his palm as his fingers curled in tightly on themselves. The voice on the other end sounded tired, but the tone suggested that it was more out of indignation than exhaustion. It was the tone Nicolas McClain always used with his son. The blue paladin switched to Spanish.

 

“Yeah.”

“And now I need to come out and get you.” 

Lance leant against the counter and took a steadying breath, trying to keep his own anger at a controllable level.

“I’m fine.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if you’re fine.” his father snapped, keeping his voice low, clearly not wanting to alert his wife to the phone call. “I’ve been at work all day.. The last thing I want to come home to is to find out I have to run a taxi service.” 

“Mom’s been at work all day too..”

He could practically feel the sneer through the speaker when his dad snapped at him.

“It’s not the same.”

“Why? Because she was actually working and you were doing god knows who?” 

Lance snarled and pushed himself away from the counter, finding himself heading towards the door. He fumbled with the key that was still in the lock for a second before slamming it shut behind him, only just catching a glimpse of Keithm who was now sat up right, staring wide-eyed in astonishment and confusion. On the other end of the phone, he could hear his dad’s voice take on a dangerous tone. He hadn’t exploded like Lance had anticipated, but the strained calm was somehow more threatening.

“Watch your tone, Lance. I’ve had of your crap.”

He went to say something, to push past the fear and give his dad an ultimatum, but he froze, feeling like the weight of all that had happened over the last twenty-four hours had collapsed in on him, crushing him with such force that Lance struggled to breath. 

“You know what’ll happen if they find out.”

He did. Lance knew he was just as much to blame for this as his dad was, regardless of what Blade might’ve said. He’d known for too long and not said anything, and now it was too late. Dealing with Raul and his sister’s would be hard enough. That’d be if they still wanted to talk to him. But his mom? She’d never be able to look him in the eye again.

“You’d tear apart the family over something you don’t understand.”

Tears had threatened to surface in frustration and Lance felt as if a noose was tightening around his neck, ready to cut off his airways. The phone felt like a lead rock in his hand, and the voice from the speaker became distant as he lost focus. The whole while, he wanted to punch something, to land his fist in the centre of a wall and watch the cracks work their way outwards, like a spider’s web. The anger swelled, and a blinding rage seemed to take control as he tried to concentrate on something, anything that wasn’t the phone. He could have hung up. Had he been thinking clearly, he probably would have hit ‘end call’ like any other sane person, but instead Lance’s gaze landed on the mirror hung up in the wall way, by the lift. Before he knew what was happening, he’d raised his hand, aimed for his face in the glass, and put all his strength behind the blow as he struck forward.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith had tried to ignore Lance for the rest of the evening, he really had. He’d busied himself with washing the plates, changing the bedsheets and even tried to make some excuse about wanting to get a catch up on some studying. But Shiro had given Keith a look that seemed to promise an unpleasant conversation and a hell of a lot of questioning if he didn’t even try to play host. 

Matt had been the first to call it a night by unceremoniously kicking off his jeans and socks and throwing his shirt at Shiro as he headed to bed, and half an hour later, Allura had said her goodnight’s and slipped into the shared bedroom, leaving Shiro to give Lance the grand tour. It had taken about ten minutes, max, as he showed him the bathroom and where all the cutlery and plates were kept in case he got hungry during the night. And then, after some conversation that Keith strained to hear, Shiro joined Allura, but not before placing a hand on his shoulder and hissing a short command.

“Stay with him.”

Keith didn’t know what it meant, and he hadn’t wanted to read too much into it. Instead he had muttered a short ‘goodnight’ before turning his attention to laying out the duvets and pillows. For a second, he wondered if Lance would notice if he moved the sofas apart. Or snuck out to sleep in the bath. But he grimaced, coming to reality that Lance, despite his faults, was not that unobservant. At least he seemed occupied, for now. He hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop when the Cuban called his mom, but Lance always spoke on the phone as if he was trying to yell to the caller. But he dropped the volume considerably when he mentioned his grandmother, and for that conversation, Keith had stepped away. It seemed like too much of a private thing for him to be overhearing.

To his relief, when the phone call was over Lance had made no attempt at conversation, which suited Keith just fine, really. But the tension seemed to radiate off of him like a supernova, and the red paladin had never seen him look so... scared? Lonely? Either way, the look didn’t suit him. The worried furrow of his brow, the way he went between gnawing on his lip and his thumbnail, the eyes that looked so tired yet so alert to danger, which made him look like a deer caught in the headlights. None of those were attributes that Keith associated with the light hearted, confident Lance that he knew... Then again, Shooter had also seemed like a far cry from Lance just hours before, so that really brought his judge of character to question. 

Still, he couldn’t help but want to pull Lance out of his own head, but what was there to say apart from ‘hey, wankshaft, y’know that guy you’ve been getting off with for past few weeks? Heyooo!’

“Pick one.”

He bit his tongue, trying his best to shove his words back down his throat when Lance looked at him.

“Er... One what?”

“A couch.”

It came out harsher than he’d intended and he rolled his eyes, mostly at himself.

“I don’t mind.” 

It was a stupid question, and Keith’s cheeks flamed red as he looked away and threw himself onto his favourite sofa. It was going to be a long night, and he knew that he wasn’t going to fall asleep easily.

As he buried his face deeper into the pillow, he heard the familiar ringtone from Lance’s phone, and was grateful that his rival-turned-house guest would be distracted for the time being. During a phone call with his mother, Keith had noticed how affectionate the Cuban had seemed, but what struck him about this phone call was the way his voice, which was usually so carefree and cheerful, suddenly sounded like a hiss as he whispered in Spanish. Even with the language barrier, he could recognise the tightness in Lance’s tone as he gripped the phone.

Peering over the sofa, Keith did his best not to be noticed as he watched Lance. His jaw was set, as if he wanted to bite down on his tongue to keep whatever thoughts he had from slipping passed his lips. And his eyes... Keith had seen that fury in his eyes only once before. Earlier that day, in fact. Shooter had had the same look when he was speaking about his dad just hours before, and the look of hate and disgust seemed alien and frightening on Lance.

Before Keith had a chance to study the expression properly, Lance was moving again, marching towards the door with heavy steps. The slam that followed made the windows rattle, and he was almost certain Shiro would come out to see what had happened. Keith ran to the door, pressing his ear against it. Lance was definitely outside, talking louder than he had been when he was in the kitchen. But when he stopped, and Keith could hear nothing, he felt that same gnawing feeling you get when you’re watching teenagers in a horror movie walk into the basement, where ghostly moans and scratching had been heard moments before. At that moment, Keith felt like one of the stupid teens as he pushed the door open a crack, watching as Lance seemed be looking at himself in the mirror. It looked like a strange scene, but now Keith could hear that the person on the other end of the phone was still talking, and Lance was absorbing every word. He wanted to snatch the phone from his hand and throw it over the balcony, as he saw the hint of frustrated, hurt tears start to pool in the blue paladin’s eyes.

And just as he was about to cough, to make him aware of his presence, everything became a blur as Lance pulled back his fist, looking more feral and dangerous than ever before, and struck, with all his strength.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lance had barely registered the blur in the corner of his eyes before the breath was knocked out of him. In that moment, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve stopped himself from punching the mirror, but all of a sudden, the phone was out of his hand, hitting the floor with a crack and skidding towards the elevator as he suddenly landed heavily on his back. He let out a cry as his head hit the carpet, thudding loudly, and the weight on his chest seemed ten times heavier. The room span and he became acutely aware of the head on his chest and the weight on his legs.

“Keith?” Lance coughed out, making no move to stand.

The mullet propped himself up, so he was on his knees, seemingly unaware that one of Lance’s legs was trapped between his own, so he was straddling the bottom of his thigh.

Keith’s face was flushed and he was breathing heavily when he fixed Lance with a glare that made him think of a storm.

“What the fuck were you doing?!” He hissed, clenching his hands so they were little balls on top of his legs.

He didn’t have an answer. Not one that would explain why he was about to punch the mirror. In the silence, he became aware of the muffled sound from his phone, and he stretched to reach it from where it lay on the floor. No obvious damage, but he could hear his dad.

“Lance? Are you listening? What happ-” 

Lance hung up and stared back at Keith, then at the mirror just beyond him. It was still in one piece, on the wall, as if nothing had happened, and the Cuban had probably been spared a few stitches a and possible cast. His hand would have and should have been broken, had Keith not flown into him like a bat out of hell... With a mullet..

“I was-”

“Are you an idiot?!”

“I don’t know, mayb-”

“You could have broken your hand!”

“Keith-”

“What, Lance?!”

He couldn’t help but smile, despite the situation. In that moment, Keith reminded him of the mother goose that used to live on his farm. It used to honk, hiss and run at you beak first, wings outstretched if anyone ever came too close to her eggs or goslings. With his flustered face, ruffled hair and pissed off expression, the resemblance was uncanny.

“What are you laughing at?!”

“Nothing.” Lance wheezed. “It’s just... Your knee is on my crotch.”

The anger was replaced by confusion before he looked down, face flaming bright red as he shoved Lance and scrambled away, making him laugh even harder.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just... Your face just-” Whatever he wanted to say was drowned out by his own laughter, and he propped himself up, before standing, offering a hand to Keith, who was still sat, flushed, on the floor.

To his surprise, Keith accepted the hand, after some hesitation. Lance couldn’t help but notice how warm and soft he was, and he longed to forget all of his problems, by pulling the smaller boy close, burying his face in his hair and holding him tight. Somehow, he doubted Keith would let that happen.

“What were you doing, Lance?” He asked, more softly, still a little pink.

“Does it matter?” Lance tried his best to give Keith a genuine smile. “You stopped me from having seven years bad luck.”

Keith didn’t budge. Instead he just stayed stood in front of Lance with that stupid stubborn expression that said ‘if you don’t start explaining yourself real fucking soon, I’m going to be the one giving you seven years of hell.’

There was no winning this fight, and Lance was too exhausted from the events of the day to match Keith’s obstinance. Especially seeing as they were going to spend the night together.

“My dad called.” 

To his surprise, Keith’s expression seemed to soften immediately, and the tension in his shoulders eased away, as if the statement was all the explanation he needed. For a brief moment, Lance tried to remember if he’d ever told Keith about his dad before, but he had no memory of ever even hinting at his rocky relationship at home. Maybe it was something in his eyes whenever he talked about it.

“And?” Keith urged him on, but he sounded a little gentler now.

“He’s pissed at me for getting stranded.” Shrugging, Lance examined his phone more thoroughly. It was scuffed, but at least the screen protector had done its job.

“... So you tried to punch yourself?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Keith.” He looked away, focussing on the trees out on the rooftop garden. It was still snowing, but the wind had died down a little. Maybe he could get a look at the view tomorrow, before he left. He moved closer to the glass, trying to peer out further into the blizzard.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Keith stood beside him now, looking at the garden as if it was the first time he’d ever seen it. “I forget that this is here, sometimes.”

“The view must be awesome in the the day.”

“I prefer it at night.”

Lance frowned, trying to picture the city below, in the dark, with nothing but street lights to indicate how far down it really was.

“Why?”

Keith shrugged, standing on his tiptoes as he tried to peer as far as possible. But then he went still, and turned.

“Wait here.” 

And with that, Keith darted back into the apartment, leaving Lance dumbfounded in the hallway.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith wasn’t sure what he was doing, or why he was doing it, but he found he found himself unable to stop as he rummaged through the coat cupboard. His jacket would have been preferable, but it was designed with fashion over functionality in mind. Unless he felt like freezing his nipples off, he was going to have to find a thicker coat. It took a while of routing through the array of jackets, wetsuits, drysuits, skiing gear and bags-upon-bags of hats, shoes and beach stuff for him to actually find the two coats him and Shiro had used when they were staying in a villa in the French Alps. Stuffed deep into the pockets were two pairs of thick gloves, and in the bag beneath where they had been hung, Keith managed to pull out a scarf and snood. 

It was stupid, and every logical thought in his mind screamed at him to stop. That going onto the roof alone at night, with Lance of all people was the most senseless thing he could do, given that the whole point of the evening was to avoid the blue paladin at every possible turn.

But Keith couldn’t turn his back on him. He didn’t understand why it pained him to see Lance hurt so much when there had been a time that he would have believed it was justified. He needed to tell him who he was. He needed to tell him that he knew about his dad and that he was there for him... But he couldn’t do it tonight. Not when he didn’t have the words to say it. So instead, he zipped up his padded red coat, pulled the blue snood over his head and forced his fingers into the gloves, and when he stepped back out into the hallway, he thrust the remaining bundle into Lance’s arms.

“Put them on.”

“Are you crazy? We’ll get blown off the roof!” 

“Are you scared?”

“Hell, no!”

Lance pulled the oversized, black coat on and the rest of the gear before following Keith to the door. Barely managing to reach the top clasp, Keith undid the bolts and held the handle with a white knuckle grip.

“On the count of three?” Keith stated, more than asked, as he braced himself against the storm. “One. Two. Thr-” 

No sooner had Keith pressed the handle down, the door blew open with such force that Keith was pulled out into the bitter cold and he felt himself starting to stumble backwards as the relentless wind slammed into him. If the snow had been hard to see through, the hair that blew in front of his eyes was worse, and he threw himself against the wall, hoping to regain a fraction of the balance and sense of direction he’d had before.

“Keith!” Lance yelled, but his voice was barely audible over the howling wind. “Keith, c’mon, Buddy!” 

Keith tried to turn to face him, but he felt his coat tug as he was pulled against someone’s chest.

“Gotcha!”

“My hero.” He muttered to himself, knowing Lance wouldn’t hear it, even though the taller boy was pressed against his back.

“We should probably go back inside!”

“Duck down!” Keith yelled, trying to get to his knees.

“What?!”

“Duck. Down!” He tried more forcefully this time, and he put his hands out, landing with a crunch on the snow. Now that Lance was no longer pressed against him, the warmth was gone, and he only hoped the Cuban had heard him, as he started to crawl forwards. Now that he was lower down, and partially shielded by the half-wall that ran around the perimeter of the garden, it was easier to pull himself to the balcony’s edge.

“You said it wasn’t as windy as it looked!” Lance yelled, as he pressed against the wall next to Keith.

 

“We just need to get to the corner,” He pointed to a spot about twenty feet away, and began moving slowly. Behind him, Lance cursed, but didn’t argue as he began to follow him through the snow. The howling was louder now, and the melted snow bit at his knees as the pyjamas became soaked through. He bitterly regretted not changing entirely, but it was too late to turn back now. Snow stuck to his hair and face, and even his eyelashes every time he looked up to check their progress. 

Finally, after a dragged-out minute of slowly crawling through the ice, they were at the corner.

“Why are we stopping?!” Lance called out, tapping on the back of his leg.

Digging his feet into the ice, he began to stand, placing his hands on top of the wall to pull himself up. The moment his head reached the top, he could feel how strong and frigid the wind was. His grip tightened as he felt himself being pushed back once again by another gust, and he probably would have been blown backwards had Lance not been in the way.

The Cuban pressed into him, so he was front-to-back with the red paladin and his hands were placed next to his, gripping the wall just as hard. Startled, Keith tried to protest and shove passed him, but Lance didn’t budge. Instead, he just stared, love-struck, at the view below. 

“Holy fuck...”

Keith turned to look at the City and couldn’t help but feel just as captivated as the blue paladin, even though he’d seen it a thousand times before. In the darkness, Altea was a series of streams of gold, as street lights illuminated the paths and roads far below. Cars turned the highways into red and white rivers, which would move quickly and fluidly, if the city wasn’t still gridlocked from the ice. Even the lights from the buildings added to the beauty, and despite the low visibility from the snow, Keith could still make out the countryside, where the lights became few and far between. Above them, the sky glowed orange as the glare from the city reflected off the clouds. On any other night, the lack stars would have been the only flaw in an otherwise perfect picture.

He’d forgotten about the wind, and the man behind him until he felt Lance’s chin rest on his shoulder. His face flooded with heat even more when he felt the blue paladin slide his hands over his.

“It’s so beautiful...” Lance whispered.

Keith should have pushed him away, or squirmed free, but the way Lance’s warm breath tickled his ears and neck made his toes curl. 

“Mm.” Keith hummed in agreement, without realising he was leaning further into the body pressed against him.

It was comforting to think that almost everyone Keith cared about was either in the apartment or the somewhere in the city below him. During the day, he might even be able to work out the districts in which they lived. Pidge lived to the West of him, as did Hunk. Lotor would probably be in the North, where Altea University Campus held most of its students. And Lance... Well, Lance was behind him.

Keith let out a long breath, watching it cloud in front of him before being blown away. He couldn’t deny that he cared about Lance to some degree. The sight of the bruise on Lance’s cheek at the hospital that morning had sparked something buried deep within himself, something he’d thought he’d lost. There’d been many times Keith had wanted to punch McClain for his smug flirting and teasing. For every time he pretended to reciprocate his feelings and close the gap between them, Keith had to fight the urge to slam his fist into the the Cuban’s face. But whatever primal, sickening urge made him stop Lance from breaking his hand took over once again.

‘It’s nothing. Play fighting gone wrong.’

He’d been skeptical about Lance’s reasoning that morning to begin with, but now he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to the worst scenario. 

“Lance?”

“Mmhm?

Keith tore himself away from the view, the cold biting into him as Lance adjusted himself to make room for the smaller boy the turn around. Now that he was facing him, the red paladin was even more aware of how close they were. Especially seeing as Lance’s hands still held on to the wall, surrounding Keith. It was almost like they were hugging again, but Lance’s arms weren’t wrapped around him the way he would have wanted. His cheeks flushed at the realisation and he pushed the thoughts from his head.

“Yeah, buddy?” Lance said, clearer this time, as if he thought Keith hadn’t heard him.

“Has your dad ever hit you?” 

Keith held his breath as he watched the blue paladin’s eyes darken. He probably would have been able to feel the tension radiating off of the taller boy from a mile off. 

“Woah, that’s kind of a heavy topic... What brought that on?”

“You clearly don’t get on with your dad-”

“No shit.”

“- And you lied about your face.” Before he could stop himself, or even think about the implications, Keith raised his hand gently, almost recoiling when Lance flinched. But any look of alarm seemed to ease away from him, when the red paladin’s gloved hand rested softly against his bruised cheek. 

Lance looked just as astonished as Keith felt, but he didn’t move or brush his hand away. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that the other paladin had briefly moved into the touch. 

“What happened, Lance? And don’t lie to me this time.”

For a moment, Keith wondered if he’d overstepped the mark or pushed one of the many boundaries he’d spent years building up. But whatever tension that had been in Lance’s shoulders seemed to ebb away as he spoke.

“My mima has dementia. Sometimes she doesn’t recognise me... It’s been happening more and more lately.”

Keith didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say. As if registering this, Lance continued.

“She’s somewhere in the middle stage, I think. But the stroke might make it worse... Before we went to the hospital she thought I was a burglar and hit me with her walking stick.” A small, sad smile appeared on his lips. “She might be in her eighties, but she’s got one hell of a swing.”

“I’m sorry, Lance... Isn’t there a cure or...?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. There’s ways to slow it down and manage the symptoms, but there’s no stopping it... One day she’ll forget who I am, then she’ll forget how to look after herself. It’ll go on and on until she won’t be able to walk, eat or swallow...”

It felt like a punch to the gut when he saw, really saw, the pain in Lance’s eyes. His voice had taken a hollow, matter-of-fact tone, like it rehearsed. Something he’d come to terms with, but no matter how much he’d thought about it, it never stopped hurting.

“Wait, you mean she’ll-”

“She’s dying, Keith... And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lance wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but he sure as hell wished he’d seen it coming, so he could stop himself from looking like an ass. First of all, Keith had no business looking as cute as he did in the coat that was at least three sizes too big for him. Secondly, he wasn’t doing either of them any favours by dragging him outside for a rooftop rendezvous that would have made him think that they were in one of the countless number of romantic chick flicks he used to make Bianca watch when he was younger. And last but not least, Keith was actually showing concern for him. The last part was probably the most surprising out of all of the events of the day. Sure, he’d given him a much needed hug that morning and he’d even offered to pay for a mechanic for Lance’s beloved bike, but somehow this is what did it for the blue paladin. Keith was talking to him.

Had he not been stranded, and if Blade wasn’t so busy, he’d probably be curled up on his bed, under the comforter his grandmother had knitted him, blubbering to the fellow gamer about all that had happened. He’d been a little to preoccupied on thinking with his dick, trying to jack out some of that pent up frustration, earlier that day. A pang of guilt hit him when he thought of that. Today, of all days, Blade probably wanted his down time. He’d said himself that it was the anniversary of his mother’s death and Lance had just come in and bombarded him with his problems. No wonder the red paladin was pissed with him.

Keith had leant back against the wall, peering to the side at the view. It had knocked Lance’s breath away at first sight and even now, the view only seemed to get more and more beautiful. And Kogane looked so... He couldn’t think of the word. Thoughtful? Entranced? Peaceful? All expressions that seemed alien on him. Lance only realised then that his arms were still on either side of Keith, and he either didn’t mind or had stopped noticing.

The pair stood in a pensive silence after the morbid talk about the fate of his grandmother, and Lance wanted to kick himself. He could have just said no and left it at that, instead of bumming Keith out more than he usually was. But the mullet hadn’t moved away, or changed the topic. Instead he’d offered his condolences and the conversation came to a natural end.

Standing this close, Lance could heard Keith’s chattering teeth over the wind, which had died down a little in the time that they had been huddled on the roof.

“Cold, mullet?”

Keith clenched his jaw, seemingly trying stop the shaking, but his breath came out in a hiss through his teeth as he spoke.

“No.”

Ah, so he was still as stubborn as ever then. Lance smirked, remembering how Keith always insisted that he didn’t need anything more than his jacket during the time that they would go out together at night or in the winter months. Now he was wrapped up, of course, but that only added to his obstinance. Every bit of logic told him not to do it, but as usual, Lance pushed every rational thought to same part of his mind that kept his modesty as he finally brought his arms together around Keith.

“Nah, you’re cold.” He stated, laughing as Keith protested, shoving him hard in the ribs.

“Get off me, Lance!”

“Or what, hot topic? Are you gonna throw me off the roof?”

He pushed on Lance’s shoulders, hard at first, but then gave in, red faced and conflicted. Feeling foolish, like he’d gone to far, Lance started to step back but he stopped when Keith rested his head against his shoulder. To his surprise, the smaller man’s arms came up behind him, hands pressing into his shoulder blades. 

“Uh... Keith? You okay, buddy?”

He felt him nod, and he could imagine the guy’s flushed face. Lance’s heart hammered against his ribcage so hard that he hoped that Keith wouldn’t be able to feel it... If that was possible through the layers of clothing. Somehow, it felt right. Keith resting his head on his shoulder and holding him like this. It wasn’t some corridor in a hospital, with one of them crying, but an embrace that made Lance wonder how long it had been since he’d held someone like this. Too long, apparently. Had Keith missed their playful fighting and affection as much Lance had? Suddenly aware of how soon he might be let go of, the blue paladin held tighter, resting his cheek on top of the soft dark hair, relishing in the warmth and smell that was Keith Kogane.

It was too soon when mullet did pull away, but Lance didn’t remove his arms. Sure, he slackened them off a little bit so that Keith could lean back against the wall again, but to his surprise he realised that their legs were still sort of close. The ends of Keith’s shoes were touching Lance’s. Maybe he wasn’t completely repulsed by him then.

In the orange glow of the city, Lance could just about make out Keith’s blush and clenched jaw. The way his lips trembled with the effort it took not to give into the shivering brought back the memory of that night, a couple years before, when Keith had made the move. His lips had been soft. Softer than Lance would ever have suspected from a kid who seemed so rough around the edges. His heart was hammering once again at the thought. Keith’s hands on his, his body pressed against him and his lips... Lance had never known anything like it. Despite the obvious lack of experience, it had been perfect. Sudden and unexpected, just like his feelings towards him. And the blue paladin could only imagine how different things would have been if he’d just returned that kiss like he’d wanted to. But it had scared him half to death. What if his family knew? What if he lost what he had with Keith? Well, the last one happened already and his family was slowly but surely coming apart. What was there to loose now except maybe his pride?

So without hesitating, or thinking, he said his name.

“Keith?”

“What?” 

The moment he turned to face him, Lance closed that gap between them. He heard Keith gasp when he registered what was about to happen and he felt the tension of his body as he rested a hand on Kogane’s waist. The other hand brushed his cheek gently and his lips pressed against the other’s. They were still soft, despite the cold weather. Lance’s had begun to chap weeks ago. Keith seemed too stunned to move at first, but he kissed back, but it seemed more instinctive than something he really thought about. Pulling back, he smiled slightly at the relief. He’d finally done it. He’d finally done what he should’ve done back then. But just as he was about to lean back in for more, Keith’s hand was pressed against his mouth, accidentally scratching his nose, which made him want to sneeze.

“Stop!”

Lance blinked a couple times before surprise and shame filled him all at once. 

“I can’t do this...”

“Sorry, I... I thought-”

“I’m sorry, Lance, I just... I can’t go through this again,” Keith cut him off abruptly, stepping to the side, so he was no longer cornered. 

He began to head back towards the apartment, not struggling as much as he had when they’d first ventured outside. Lance stood, dejected and ashamed as he tried to calm his rushing thoughts. His eyes burned as tears threatened to escape and he barely swallowed down the lump in his throat when Keith turned to him. 

“We should probably go in before Shiro comes looking for us.”

Lance nodded numbly before following Keith back into the apartment.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snow dropped onto the door mat as Keith kicked the ice from his boots and shucked off his coat. Behind him, Lance was following his lead, chucking the coat to him, along with the gloves and scarves before wondering to the bathroom, muttering something about ‘needing to point Percy at the porcelain’ or some weird shit that Keith didn’t try to decipher. Instead he replaced the bundle of clothing into the closet and slid under the duvet on his favourite sofa. His knees were still damp from crawling through the snow, but he didn’t want to wake Matt by sneaking in to get a fresh set of pyjamas. It’d lead to too many awkward questions and also the Holt brother slept naked. He’d learnt that the hard way, when he’d first met Pidge. Shiro had taken him to the Holt household the summer before he was to start at Altea high, so he’d at least know one other student when term started. Matt had walked out of his bedroom, seemingly unaware that they had visitors, and everything was out in the open.

Keith shuddered at the memory and tried to calm his heart beat as he heard Lance coming back down the hallway. His lips still tingled from the feeling of the kiss just minutes before. God, he was stupid. Keith cursed silently at himself as he rolled over. This way he could face the back of the sofa. It had seemed like a bad idea to begin with, when he took Lance outside to see the view of Altea at night. But it had lead to touching. That was easy enough to excuse. After all, it was windy and cold out. And then there was the hug. Keith knew he was partly to blame for that. Lance had probably only intended for the hug to be playful, but something in the red paladin had snapped. He’d longed for the warmth that came with Lance. He could have told him then, that he was Blade, but then what? Lance had too much to cope with. His grandmother’s illness and his father’s apparent lifetime ambition of being a total cunt. The hug that morning had felt more real than anything Keith had encountered in the last few weeks. And somehow it terrified him more than showing Shooter... Well... Lance his kinky side. Blade wasn’t real. Not in this way. Keith was the vulnerable side of a coin that Lance probably wanted nothing more than to distract himself with. And if he did want more? It had to be a joke. One of Lance’s ways of messing with him. A way to tip the flirting scale. And even if he was being sincere... No. Keith wouldn’t consider that possibility. He had to tell Lance about Blade. But not when the blue paladin needed his gamer counterpart most.

Keith barely registered the rusle of blankets until Lance coughed. The tension had intensified from the moment they’d walked through the door, and as much as he wanted to sleep and forget the whole thing, he knew it was an issue he could address now.

“... Do you need anything before I crash?” 

“Um... No. No thanks... Buddy.”

“Lance, I’m sorry.”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” 

Keith turned around, just about managing to work out Lance’s silhouette, curled up under the mountain of the duvet. His heart ached and his lungs felt like they were on the verge of collapse when he saw the desperation and fear in the gamer’s eyes.

“... I won’t tell anybody.” He whispered, as if talking too loud would alert the entire city. “And we don’t have to talk about it after this. But... Why?”

Lance said nothing for a long moment, and Keith was preparing his next question when the silence was broken.

“Heat of the moment, I guess. Why did you kiss me back?” He countered, but there was nothing malicious in his tone. Just curiosity and a hint of defensiveness.

“... I don’t know. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You seemed to know what you were doing.”

Keith sat up and turned the lamp on. Lance groaned, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes as the harsh light filled the room.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He growled. It wouldn’t take long for him to drag the blanket and pillows into his bedroom and crash on the floor. Shiro’s lecture might be well worth the hassle-free day of having to hide a body and establish an alibi.

“Nothing, nothing! It was a compliment! You’re not terrible at it.”

His cheeks flamed with embarrassment. 

“Do you want to sleep in the garage?”

“Come on, Keith. You’ve just turned me down! The least you can do is take the freaking compliment.”

“At least you’ve got your sense of humour back.”

“It never left.”

An impish grin spread across Lance’s face, although he still appeared tired and down-trodden.

“I’m being serious, Lance.” He pressed back into the pillows. “How long have you known?”

“Known what?”

“That you like guys.”

Lance stiffened under his covers and fixed Keith with a look that told him all he needed to know. The blue paladin was still in the closet. He just happened to poke his toe under the door.

“I’m not gay.”

“Bi?”

“No. I mean... Yeah, I guess. Wait, no!” 

Keith couldn’t help but smile a little at the blush creeping up his guest’s neck and into his face.

“I won’t tell anyone, Lance.”

At this, he looked surprised, relieved and weary all in one go, and Keith did his best not to take offence. He wasn’t known to be a gossip like Lance.  
“You won’t?”

“No. If you wanted people to know, you would have told everyone three times over.”

The room was plunged into darkness when he reached behind him to turn off the light. 

“... Thanks, Keith.”

“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3
> 
> If you'd like to see Virtually Yours become a comic, let me know and I will also start posting illustrated promos 24 hours before posting the next chapters! 
> 
> Until next time!!! <3


	9. Best of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here!!!!
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long! T.T I had started this chapter a while ago, even writing when I was travelling! But then I got sick, went travelling again and then work piled up, along with getting ready to go to university (Whoop-whoop!!!)
> 
> However!!!!!! 
> 
> I now have the means to illustrate this comic... I will go back and add illustrations to chapters, as well as on my blog (which I'll be setting up ASAP!) and as of the next chapter... There will be illustrations! ;) 
> 
>  
> 
> Without further ado! Here is Chapter nine! I literally finished it five minutes ago and was eager to post it, so I apologise in advance if it seems rushed!
> 
> Peace!

Glass crunched under his feet with every step he took, and the soles of his shoes stuck to the ground, as if the tarmac wanted to keep him there at the crossroads forever. The smoke and blazing rubber burnt his nostrils as he tried to take in gulps of air, but it was as if a plastic bag was over his head, and with each lungful he yearned for oxygen. The shards of glass were bigger here, near the scrap of metal, as he clutched his jacket around himself.  
He knew where to go now. He’d walked this road so many times before. Almost every night since he was eight years old. He knew what he’d find if he kept going through the mist.

He nearly tripped over one of the larger pieces of debris, scuffed, but still shinier than the dismal wreckage. That’s what caught his eye. That’s what was different from all the other nightmares. The silver was nothing like that of the car, but it was somehow familiar. Crouching, he touched it, gently, where it curved, trailing his fingers down, down and further down until he met with cold palm of the prosthetic, detached from its owner, like a metal glove.

“Shiro?” Keith croaked, looking around, trying the push away the thickening fog, as if it was a solid mass, suffocating him. He crouched again, where the air seemed clearer close to the ground, crawling over the arm and feeling for anything, anything that was warm and living. The cold bit into him as he stretched, trying to grab onto something, but there was nothing but the warm wet feeling of... He didn’t know. He raised his hand to look at the palm, now stained red with a thick, warm blood, drying rapidly.

“Shiro!” He cried out, following the trail, where it became thicker and redder and fresher. “Please, please...” Finally, something solid came into view, at the end of the red river, and he had to fight off the fast approaching sickness. Shiro lay crumpled, pale and lifeless, apart from his eyes, which seemed to glare at Keith with furious fire.

“You did this...” Shiro’s lips moved, but it wasn’t his voice. It wasn’t Shiro as a child, but the adult that had taken him away. “You did this, it’s always you.”

Keith sobbed, desperately searching for something to stop the bleeding. He knew the voice, he could hear it coming closer.

“You should have listened, boy.”

He moved behind Shiro, wrapping his arms around him and holding him closer, trying to squeeze the warmth back into him. As if the broken body would regain its life once it felt the hammering of Keith’s own heart.

“Stop clinging to him! Learn to stand on your own two feet.” The voice snarled, sounding less like an echo and more real with each syllable. Shiro’s eyes were becoming unfocused.

In the corner of his eyes, a figure appeared. Tall, muscular and pale. He wore a suit, the last one Keith had ever seen him wear.

“Dad, save him... Please... Save him!” The last part came out like a desperate scream, angry and distraught. The man shook his head in disgust, his black hair seeming darker than it ever was.

“Look at what you’ve done, boy.” He pointed into the clearing fog, where a car laid crumpled and compacted. “Look at what you’ve done to her.”

Another figure, young and slender was slumped over the steering wheel, on the horn, which blared louder and louder. Where he expected to see dark hair, covering the face, he saw white, draped over tanned skin and slightly curled at the ends.

“A... Allura...” Keith choked on his own sobs.

“You did this.” His dad said again, spitting out the words. “Look at you. Stood there, doing nothing.”

Keith wanted to tear his eyes away, to wake up and remember that this is just a dream.

“LOOK.” The voice boomed, so loudly that Keith felt like his ears were going to bleed. He looked again, searching the back seat where he expected to see a sleeping child-version of himself. But it was empty. The whole car was empty except for Allura, who lay like a tired ragdoll.  
But he did see the child, standing by the car, crying, bloody and covered in dirt. Keith wanted nothing more than to shield him. To shield himself as he watched the kid try to run towards his dad, arms raised, as if he expected someone to pick him up and hold him tight. To kiss away his tears. The man turned away from the child and put his hand on Shiro’s good shoulder. His brother now stood, as a child, free of blood and dirt and broken bits of glass. One sleeve was folded up and pinned where the arm should have been, making him look unbalanced.

“Keith!” His brother called out, reaching a hand to the little boy, but the hand on his shoulder turned him away. “Keith!” He called out again, longingly.

The child tried to run, tried to catch up, but the tarmac held him still. Keith, the teenager, was still knelt on the ground, weeping in fear. Even after the man and the child disappeared into to the fog, Keith could hear his name being called through the roaring in his head.

“Keith! KEITH!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lance wasn’t sure what woke him first; the vibration of his phone as he received a text alert, or the coughing from the couch next to him. Whatever it was, it hadn’t really disturbed him. Like most nights recently, the blue paladin hadn’t had the luxury of doing anything more than dozing, lulling between being half-aware of the world around him and the sudden feeling of falling. He didn’t remember the last time he’d woken up feeling fully refreshed, but he was at least grateful for the couple hours he’d mercifully managed to get, despite the eerie silence of the apartment. Unlike the Kogane’s, the McClain house was never truly silent at night. The walls were thin, and Raul’s snoring could be heard from down the hall, and it seemed like every twenty minutes, someone needed to use the bathroom. Lance had long since lost count of the amount of times he’d hear a noise from downstairs only to find Church halfway up a curtain or his grandmother fully dressed and trying to cook breakfast at three in the morning. It had been happening more and more lately.

Long story short, the stillness of the Kogane home was unnerving, and Lance strained to hear any sounds of life, other than Keith’s laboured breathing a few feet away. But there was nothing. Even the traffic was too far below the apartment to be any more than a hum, pierced every now and then by a siren. A stark contrast to the rural noise of crickets, owls and foxes that Lance had become accustomed to.

Lance glanced at his phone, wincing at the sudden bright light of the screen, hoping to find a message from Blade. But Pidge seemingly followed the same night time habits of his friend-turned-casual-lover, as her profile icon appeared at the side of his screen, with the message underneath reading:

‘I may need your help disposing of a body.’

He yawned, feeling his jaw pop with strain of it and he flung his phone the side, hearing it thump against the couch cushions by his feet. It was only five-thirty, and he could probably have stood to gain a couple more hours sleep. But his mind was alert, and he thought about going down to the garage to check on his beloved bike. Maybe a night of thawing out might’ve done it some good. But the thought of leaving the makeshift bed was already too exhausting to execute.  
So instead he lay there, trying to not let his thoughts drift into unpleasant boundaries. But it seemed like his mind had other plans. Instead, he curled up, cringing at himself as every embarrassing memory since birth seemed to replay in his head. From the time he was five when he tried to impress Frances Stevens, a girl in the year above, by swinging upside down on the monkey bars, only to end up with seven stitches to the forehead and a bruised ego; to when he was twelve, and he and Hunk were caught trying out some of Alicia’s heels. Lance relived every moment. And now he had last night’s kiss to add to his collection of ‘nope’ moments. 

Suppressing a groan, Lance tried to stuff the thought back into its own little corner of fucked up, where he hoped it would stay. Why the fuck would he have ever imagined any good would have come out of kissing Keith like that? Truth be told, he realised a little too late that he didn’t know what to expect. Or where he wanted it to go. Keith seemed like more of a stranger now than ever before. How could there be so much that he did know about him, despite being best friends only three years earlier? Lance braved a look towards the sleeping figure, curled up in a tight little ball on the adjacent sofa. Yes, Keith had always been something of a mystery to everyone. It was part of the appeal. But still, it hurt that the kid he knew back then had kept so many things a secret. Like where he lived or who is brother was. He could understand why he wouldn’t broadcast it, since something like that could be a magnet for friends who would only have liked him for his money or credibility, but did he really trust him so little? The blue paladin tried to bury the hurt. Keith probably had a lot of things he didn’t want to talk about. And maybe he’d just gotten so used to hiding everything that he’d become afraid of the unknown. And that made Lance’s gut wrench more than anything.   
Suddenly the magnitude of the night at the party hit him like a freight train, with such force that he had to suck in a breath to keep from cursing. Keith had tried to tell him the important things; the things that made him feel weak or vulnerable, even if he never voiced them out loud. And Lance had been too blind to see what was happening. The times when the fourteen-year old had seemed moody, and distant, but still hung around Lance and smiled when he cracked a dumb joke. Or the hours spent wandering aimlessly around Altea’s mall together, talking about conspiracy theories and (exaggerated) romantic conquests. Keith had never talked about his past, and Lance had only ever asked once. But he’d quickly apologised and changed the topic when he saw the way Keith turned from a quiet, but cocky teenage boy, to a deadly calm stranger, in a matter of seconds. His face became like a statue, his expressions indiscernible, apart from the tension in his jaw, which Lance had assumed was from an effort to keep from crying and letting everything spill out. But looking back, it became more and more clear that it wasn’t necessarily sorrow that Keith had been trying to hide from his friend, but fear. Fear or rejection or abandonment, or fear of the unknown. Of what might happen if someone else knew about his past. It hadn’t been clear to Lance then, but now it seemed blindingly obvious. Keith had trusted Lance from the very beginning. The kiss that night, three years ago, had been a testament of that. But Lance had broken that trust, not by breaking the kiss, but by mocking him for it. 

Lance sat up, letting his feet slide to the floor as he thought about standing. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep. At least not while his mind was racing with guilt. Had he been at home, he’d probably have turned to his laptop or Blade for a temporary distraction, until he could leave his room without anyone questioning why he was up so uncharacteristically early. But Blade had made it clear that he couldn’t talk last night, and the apartment was so quiet, that he doubted that he wouldn’t wake the others. Even if he locked himself in the bathroom and whispered.

It wasn’t until he was reaching for his phone, with the intention of responding to Pidge’s text, that he heard the rustle of sheets from the other sofa. His eyes snapped up when he heard the soft gasp, followed by whimper, only a couple meters away. Was Keith awake? In the low light, of the living room, it was hard to make out the details of his face, and it took a second to adjust before Lance could see anything more than mountain of blankets and cushions. But when Keith turned, the dark tresses of his hair spread across the pillows and stuck to the sweat on his forehead and neck. For a moment Lance wondered if Keith ever thought about saying ‘fuck it’ and cutting the mullet off, when he saw the way it had knotted and matted where his head had been rubbing against the headrest. His brows were knitted together in a frown, and the same tightness of his jaw that Lance had been pondering over just moments before was evident in the way he ground his teeth, biting down on the sounds that tried to escape.

Was he having a sex dream or something? 

Lance might’ve laughed at the sheer awkwardness of the situation, had the sounds not began to grow clearer, as Keith’s breathing became more and more rapid, coming out in what sounded more like choked sobs than gasps of pleasure.

“Keith? You awake, buddy?”

The blue paladin ditched his mobile and reached for the lamp next to him. He put it to the dimmest setting, filling the room with a soft yellow light, which wasn’t bright enough to wake up his sleeping host. In the dark, it had been hard to see the way that Keith had been clutching the sheets, but now Lance could make out the whitening of his knuckles, and the sweat that had created dark patches on his t-shirt, which stuck to him like a second skin.

“Keith?”

The smaller boy turned, squirming as if he was trying to free himself of someone or something unpleasant. A nightmare.

“Sh- Shiro...”

Lance crouched next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, hoping that the light touch would be enough to wake him. In all his years of sharing a room with his brother, Raul, he’d never seen anyone so animated in their sleep.

“Keith.”

He started to nudge him gently, but stopped as soon as he started. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered someone saying that you shouldn’t wake another person up from a nightmare. Or was that sleep walking? Lance bit his lip. Maybe waking him would just startle him more than it would if he just let the dream run its course.   
But Keith’s breathing was becoming more and more fitful by the second, and his eyes darted in all directions under his lids, clearly fretting over whatever he thought he was seeing.

“Keith, come on!” 

Lance placed both hands on the younger boy’s shoulders, saying his name again and again, pressing down with more force as he tried to shake Keith awake, gaping in alarm as tears started to shed from under his closed lids, falling across his face, over the bridge of his nose until they eventually absorbed into where Keith’s cheek met the pillow.

“Keith! KEITH!”

The room erupted with sound the moment those blue-grey eyes came to life, wide and panic-stricken. The scream was nothing like anything Lance had heard before, and it tore through him like a rapier, making his blood run cold. It wasn’t high-pitch, like in the movies he’d watched as a kid, but something even more terrible and piercing. A feral combination between a howl of sheer, naked terror and a wail of... Lance couldn’t place it. He didn’t want to place it. There was no existing category in which he could describe the pain and the sorrow and the pure fear that Keith’s cries omitted. 

From the very second he’d awoken, Keith had begun thrashing, kicking and throwing his arms about wildly, trying to claw away at the remnants of his dream, and Lance had to fight his way through the flailing limbs to avoid being kicked off the sofa. All the while, the cries ran through the apartment like a hideous version of a siren’s call.

“Keith, Keith, stop!” Lance cried out, trying his best to ignore the pain in his ribs as a knee slammed into his torso. He leaned over the writhing body, barely managing the grab Keith’s wrists as they lashed out.

“KEITH.” 

But Lance could do nothing, nothing against whatever was going through Keith’s mind. Their faces were so close now that he could see the tears welling up and falling down the younger boy’s cheeks.  
Lance tried to say something, to find the words that would bring the cries to end, but his voice failed him. He wasn’t even sure that Keith could hear him. It wasn’t until he felt the firm metal hand on his shoulder that he even found himself able to move. 

“I- I don’t know what happened!” Lance stammered, pushing himself away from the sofa, and the now shaking boy who’d since curled in on himself. “He just woke up like that!”

If Shiro had heard him, he didn’t show it as he slipped passed the blue paladin and took his place at Keith’s side, sliding his hands under Keith’s and gently pulling him into a hug with the kind of ease that comes with not only strength, but practice.

Lance took a step back, glancing around the room, which had by now become a hive of activity. Allura had been second through the door after Shiro, and was already in the process of filling a large kettle with water. He backed away again, still straining to hear what Keith was trying to say, choking on each word as he gasped until his brother hushed him, reminding him to count and breath, count and breath over and over again.

“Wass goin’ on?”

Matt stood in the doorway, duvet trailing behind him like a cape. His hair was somehow more dishevelled than it had been the night before, sticking up in spikes at all angles. But once his eyes landed on Keith’s huddled form, wrapped up in Shiro’s arms, he sobered, standing up a little straighter as something flickered in his features. Understanding or pity. Maybe both. But it was enough to tell Lance that this occurred often enough for a routine to have been developed.

“Is, um...” Lance coughed, trying to ease the tightness in his throat. “Is there anything I can do?” 

The question wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular, and he couldn’t be sure who answered first, but a silent conversation and agreement seemed to pass between Matt and Allura as they glanced at each other, and Lance soon found himself being steered towards the door by the hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go check on your bike,” Matt chimed, his cheerful tone a jarring contrast against the whispers and sniffs in the background.

Lance blinked.

“But you said it was fucked-”

“I want to give it a second opinion!

 

\---

The garage was nothing like Lance had ever seen before. Sure, he’d been down their the night before, but it still made him gape at the sheer size of it. Once the elevator reached the basement level and opened up onto a hallway, which reminded him of the long corridors of a hotel, you could either go through the glass doors to the gym, which already had three people lifting weights or stretching to begin their warm up, or you could go to the underground carpark. No, ‘car park’ didn’t do it justice. It was huge, well lit and well ventilated, unlike most enclosed inner city parking lots. Several small roads lead down paths to large garage doors, each numbered for the residents. The Kogane’s spot was right at the bottom, and Matt quickly typed in the pass code that would make the door slide up along the ceiling. 

The room would have seemed a hell of a lot bigger if it weren’t for the massive workbench along the back wall, the two filing cabinets, a small fridge and the ladders and paint pots. But somehow it still managed to fit three cars and a moped, without becoming too cramped. Next to the black mercedes, which Lance assumed was Shiro’s, his bike looked like an even bigger piece of crap than it already was. Scuffed, dented and falling a part, it stood out against the luxury cars like an eyesore. He shuffled a little where he stood, feeling inadequate, or like he was in a museum and was forbidden to touch anything.

Matt was already pulling tools from their various homes as he hummed a familiar song to himself.

“So... “ Lance said, deciding that leaning against the wall was a safe option, so long as he kept his hands behind him. “What happened up there? With Keith?”

The humming stopped, replaced by a silence that was somehow more deafening than Matt’s rendition of ‘Oops I Did it Again.’

“Nightmare,” Was all he said as he crouched down to look at the wheels.

“I’ve never seen him look so-”

“Not Keith.” Matt interrupted, tapping a pen against the front wheel. “Your tires. They’re bald as fuck. When did you last change them?”

“What? Oh, uh... I don’t know. When I got it, I think.”

Lance watched as Matt moved around to the back.

“Keith’s a strong kid, but that’s half the problem.” He said, frowning at something that made the blue paladin’s stomach drop. Whatever it was, it was going to cost him.

“What do you mean?”

Matt adjusted his glasses before moving over to where Lance stood, reaching into the fridge to pull out a soda.

“I’ve never met a guy as stubborn as he is. And knowing my little sister, that’s saying something.” 

Lance couldn’t help but smile. He’d seen Keith and Pidge argue for days over homework and theories before. Those arguments had probably never been resolved, but were stored away until someone was stupid enough to broach the topic again.

“He won’t tell anyone what’s going through his head.”

There was a note in his voice, which the Cuban could only read as concern or maybe pity again. It was the first time that he’d ever considered that Keith, the hot-headed, stubborn and withdrawn kid from his class, might actually be vulnerable. His stomach twisted a little at the thought.

“What happened to him?”

Matt studied him for a long time, the seriousness in his eyes seemed alien compared to the rapturous excitement that he’d displayed up until this point. Lance had only met him the evening before, and didn’t know him well enough at all, but somehow he got the feeling that the Holt boy was one to try and find the best in the worst situations. And now he was struggling to.

“Keith hasn’t told you anything?”

Lance thought back. He definitely would have remembered if Keith had let something slip, and he kicked himself for not asking more questions, for not insisting to know more about his friend. Then again, Lance hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about certain aspects of his life. Keith knew he had a large family, and he probably knew the dynamics and maybe even most of their names, but he’d had no way of knowing the extent of his grandmother’s illness or anything about his father beyond what little Lance had told him before last night, which was mostly recycled stories from his childhood. 

He shook his head. All he knew for sure was that Keith was bounced from foster home to foster home, until Shiro presumably came out of care and was old enough to take on the role of guardian. 

Matt seemed to mull things over before saying;

“I don’t think I should be the one telling you this, but when Shiro and Keith were kids, they had a lot taken away from them and Keith... Well, he didn’t come out of it as well as Shiro did.”

The garage seemed to grow colder, and Lance suddenly wished he’d grabbed a jacket from the closet before he left the apartment. He knew that he wasn’t going to get anymore answers from Matt, although he was left with more questions than he’d started out with.

It was at that moment, while he was searching for something that might bring up a new subject of conversation, that he noticed the bike propped haphazardly against the wall. It was the only thing in the entire apartment building that seemed to scream ‘Keith’. The only indication that he’d lived there.  
The bike itself looked no better than it did the night of the party, when the hot-headed rider had crash-landed on the curb. It’s wheels were still bent out of shape, looking more like a poorly drawn star than a circle, the handlebars were a little crooked and several of the spokes were either bent, broken or straight up missing. 

Matt’s eyes trailed to the bike as well, before he grinned, though something told Lance that he wasn’t full amused by what he saw.

“I was on video chat with Shiro when Keith walked through the door. He looked like a fucking train wreck.”

“Not much different than usual, then?” Lance asked, somewhat relieved that he didn’t get chewed out for the insult.

“Shiro thought I’d been fighting.”

Lance whipped around so fast that he thought he felt his neck crick. Keith was leaning against the garage door frame, with his arms folded across his front. In the unnaturally harsh light, it was easy to see the dampness of his cheeks and his red-rimmed eyes.

“Keith-”

“How’re you feeling, dude?” 

Keith seemed to blink, wearily, as if despite the bright overhead lights, he still couldn’t quite focus on the two men in front of him.  
“A little better.” He said, his voice tight, hoarse and yet somehow hollow. Like he’d swallowed a tube of sandpaper.

“Are Allura and Shiro still up?” Matt begun to swagger towards the door, one hand in his pocket as the other clasped Keith on the shoulder. The latter flinched, but almost immediately relaxed.

“I think they’re going back to bed.”

“Coolio.”

Lance looked him up and down, noting the walking boots tied tightly over a pair of thick winter socks. His black jeans were creased, probably by the way he’d thrown them into the laundry basket, and his coat was left loose, unopened, revealing the plain dark grey t-shirt underneath. Matt seemed to have noticed this too.

“I take it you’re not heading to bed, then?” A casual question, on the surface, but the blue paladin caught the hint of worry hidden underneath.

“No.” Keith shook his head. “I might go for a walk, though.”

“I’ll go with you!” Lance had blurted it out without really thinking. In fact, he hadn’t realised it until he saw the surprise written on both of their faces. Keith’s frown deepened, and he looked at his own shoes, weighing up the options to politely decline. Or to tell him to fuck off, so Lance thought.

“Unless you want to be alone.” He added, more tentatively. Hoping that it might soften the blow to his own gut. But to his surprise, Keith only nodded.

“That would be... Nice.” The surprise hadn’t left his voice, but at least he sounded sincere.

Sort of.

 

Lance zipped to the bathroom to freshen up as soon as they stepped into the warmth of the apartment, waving a quick farewell to Matt, who stalked back to Keith’s bedroom with the intention of trying to grab a few hours sleep. By the time he was done, he found himself having changed into a pair of blue denim jeans and a turtleneck jumper that had been laid out on the back of the sofa. He raised an eyebrow at Keith, who shrugged.

“It’s all I could find that’d probably fit you.” Lance tried not to notice the dark circles under his eyes as he added. “I forgot I even had those jeans.”

Once he was dressed, surprised to find that the clothes had fit, even if the jeans were a little tighter than his own, he pulled on the coat from the night before and his own trainers, while Keith fumbled around his pockets, probably checking to make sure he had his keys, phone and wallet. And ten minutes later, they were walking, silently through the snow, which had already begun to melt from the salt grit that had been freshly laid the night before. Lance grimaced as he stepped a pile of dirty sludge.

“Do you think school will be back on soon?”

“Dunno.” Keith said, his shrug barely noticeable under the oversized parka. “Maybe. If the damp’s gone.”

Lance nodded, not sure what else to say. 

“... Did it scare you?”

The question took him so off-guard that he had to keep from tripping over the pavement.

“Did what scare me?”

“Lance...”

So it was going to be a straightforward conversation then. Or as straightforward as Keith Kogane could be.

“I mean...” Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve had more peaceful wake up calls.”

“I’m sorry.” The blue paladin blinked, trying to work out if he’d heard correctly. “I’m sorry you... Saw that.”

“Woah, dude, it’s... It’s fine! I mean, it’s not fine, something was clearly wrong with you! Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just that you were obviously distressed, so it wasn’t great, but-”

He could have sworn that he heard a chuckle escape from underneath the fur-lined hood. It was enough to silence him.

“You ramble. When you don’t know what to say.”

Well, now Lance really didn’t know what to say. So he spoke his mind, trying and failing to skirt around the issue as he said;

“What did you dream about?”

Keith took a shuddering breath beside him, and once again he looked like that small, broken figure curled up on the sofa. But he straightened, the hardness back in his eyes as he shuffled through the crunching snow.

“A long time ago I saw something that I... Something happened. And... And it’s stayed with me. I’m sorry-”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” The sharp tone seemed to cut through Keith. Not in a hurtful way, but as if it woke him, forcing him to listen. “You couldn’t help it.” He added, a little more gently.

Keith seemed to chew something over, like he was trying to dig out a response. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but seemed to swallow his words each time.

“Where do you want to eat?” The question was so sudden, so out of place that Lance could only blink in confusion. “I thought I might get something for breakfast...” 

“Oh, I, uh... I don’t know. What’s even open?”

 

By the time they’d reached the early morning diner, the clock had struck seven-thirty and Lance’s legs protested at the thought of having to walk much further. It had taken just over an hour to get from the apartment to the restaurant, which was only occupied by a couple of patrons; mainly builders and early-commute men in suits. Still, the smell of fried eggs and crisp bacon was enough the make his mouth water and he’d quickly bagged a booth by the window. It was still dark outside, although a few lights in the neighbouring buildings had flickered to life and the traffic was slowly but surely beginning to increase.

Even his sleep-addled brain couldn’t deter him from grinning at the waitress as she set down a full breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns, toast and beans in front of the Cuban, along with a small side of pancakes with maple syrup. Opposite him, Keith picked away at the savoury waffle, watching the world wake up outside of the window.

Lance groaned, perhaps a little too loudly, as he took a bite.

“Potatoes have never tasted so good!”

“You’ve got mayonnaise on your chin.” Keith said, not looking away from the street. Lance hadn’t even seen him look at him. Still, he huffed, and wiped away sauce with a napkin.

“Heh. I should have asked you to lick it off for me.”

Keith, tiredly, turned his gaze to Lance, exasperation clear in his eyes.

“Sorry. I guess it’s too early for that, huh?” He looked at his plate. “Or is it because of last night?”

“No.” Keith said, finally taking a bite of his own food, chewing slowly. “I don’t like mayonnaise.”

He felt the corners of his lips tug up. So long since he’d heard even a hint of a joke from his old friend.

“What about if I was covered in chocolate sauce? Would you clean me up then?” the blue paladin practically purred, trying not to let the image travel south.

“Probably not.” Keith reached for a napkin, wiping something off the side of his plate. “I don’t lick assholes.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up, as he took in the way Keith’s eyes had lit up, the way they always did if he was particularly proud of something. 

“Dude, that was so gross... I taught you well!”

He could have sworn he heard a snort come from Keith’s side of the table, but he let it pass, wolfing down the rest of his first plate and pulling the stack of pancakes closer, offering one to his company, who declined with a curt shake of his head.

“Too bad, they’re good!” He mumbled through a mouthful. It had always impressed his mother the way that he could pile away so much food and it still wouldn’t show. Then again, he ran a lot, and growing up with so many siblings meant he had to eat fast or he didn’t eat. Well... His mima would have piled more on their plate if she even suspected that they were hungry. His chest ached at the thought. 

“... Have you heard from your mom?” 

The pancakes turned to ash in his mouth. What was it with Keith that he could be so clueless about the most obvious social interactions, but could always seem to tell what he was thinking?

“No. She’ll call me as soon as visitation starts.”

He tried to ignore Keith’s searching gaze, which always had to power to make him feel naked and vulnerable.

“What’s it like having a big family?”

Each bite became hard to swallow, with his throat feeling tight from holding back tears. Still, he managed to keep his voice steady as he shrugged.

“Loud. Very loud. Especially when everyone’s there.” When Keith said nothing, he took that as an invitation to continue. “It’s like... I guess it’s kind of like when you’re a kid and your a kid and your out playing with all your friends, y’know? You don’t really think much of it at the time but then you look back and... And you realise how awesome those moments were. Like all the good memories come back and you and all your brother’s and sister’s turn into little kids again... And you notice when someone's gone.” It left him like a rush of air, his eyes burning with the threat of tears, but blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time or the place.

“... No wonder you want to protect it.” 

“Huh?”

“Your family. I didn’t get why you wouldn’t tell your mom about your dad but... I guess I see now. Why you’d want to keep them all together.”

Keith didn’t look up, still pushing the remaining food around his plate with a fork. He watched him for a while, weighing up the words. Nothing he’d said was aimed at comforting him, that much was obvious, but... Keith understood. Someone, except for maybe Blade, understood the guilt, and the reason behind his secrecy. And the weight on his shoulders lifted slightly.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think your mom’s the kind of person who’d blame her son for something their father did. She seems like she has her priorities in order. From what I’ve heard of her.” He added the last part so quickly, that Lance took a moment to pick apart the words.

“Keith-”

“I don’t know a lot about families.” Finally, he stopped picking at his food and set his fork down on the plate. “But I know you. You’ll take on the whole world’s responsibility if it meant making life a little easier for someone else.” 

“Wow...” Lance swallowed, genuinely trying to supress the rising feeling in his chest that could have been pride or... Or something else. Maybe acid reflux. “I never knew you could be quite the wordsmith.” He said with a smirk.

“Who the fuck even says wordsmith anymore?” The shade of pink in Keith’s cheeks suited him. It was far better than the grey he’d been that morning, when colour had almost completely drained from his face. “I’m just saying; don’t burn yourself out. And don’t waste your time or energy on people who don’t deserve it.”

He took a deep breath, finishing off the last of pancakes, which had long since lost their initial appeal. Lance felt sick, with worry and... He couldn’t pin the feeling. At least not right now. Pushing the plate to the side, he busied himself with counting out the cash to cover his side of the bill.

“... Keith?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks. For last night. And for not flipping out in a bigger way when I kissed you. It was... I don’t know, it’d been a long day, and... Y’know, you’re surprisingly easy to talk to when you’re not sulking!” 

“I don’t sulk!” Keith snapped, glaring even harder when Lance grinned, genuine affection in every smile. “And... Whatever, it’s fine. I mean... You’d have done the same for me?” The last part probably wasn’t intended as a question. Maybe Keith was just considering his choice of words, his explanation for his sudden kindness. Not that he was particularly unkind, but... He was certainly talking more than he had a few weeks back.

“Yeah... If you ever need to talk, y’know... About whatever happened to you.” He pulled out his phone and began writing down his number, sliding the napkin he’d used to note it down across the table. “You can call me. I... I think I changed my number since we last talked on the phone.”

Keith didn’t move. He just stared at the napkin, in barely veiled surprise and... dread. Did Keith really not want to talk about it?

“Thank you... For everything.” He’d said, tightly, folding the napkin into his pocket. “I’ve left my phone at home, so... I’ll text you my number or something.”

Lance’s nausea eased a little bit, and he smiled. “Cool. I mean, y’know... Sounds like a plan.”

Keith nodded, hand still clutching the number tucked safely in his coat.

“Thank you.” He said again and something in that smile, that warm, genuine smile, made pancake butterflies start up again in his stomach.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The paper was still tucked in his pocket, although he had no need to look at it to text Lance. Not when his number was already logged on his phone under his most frequently contacted. Of course, the name was still under Shooter. A part of him was humbled at the thought of being able to pick up the phone and be himself, be Keith Kogane, rather than Blade. But Lance would know, the moment he texted him, who he really was. The same cache of photos, videos and private messages would appear under his name. Unless... Unless he bought a second phone. Then he could- ‘no. No, no, no.’ Keith thought. Buying a phone would just add to the mounting list of deceitful things that had occured in the last twenty-four hours. His only reason for using a different number would be if he planned to pretend he was someone else for an extended period of time. And he’d already promised himself that he’d tell Lance. When the time was right, he would tell him. Damn, Lance for being too kind for his own good.

His heart had almost stopped with panic when the blue paladin had suggested they get a bus back to the apartment. He couldn’t explain why he wouldn’t set foot on a bus and that he hadn’t been any vehicle, aside from his bicycle, since the train journey with Shiro when he’d first moved in. Even with it being far safer than a car, he’d still been tense. Gripping Shiro’s sleeve with one hand while holding a sick bag to his mouth with the other had only proved that it was too much to attempt public transport again.

But the phone call to Matt while he was in the toilet was all it took to stop his shaking, and thirty minutes later, Pidge’s brother had pulled up outside the diner, with Lance’s bike strapped in the back of the van, and his bags and belongings tossed into the back seat. He’d give Lance a lift home or to the hospital or wherever while Keith made an excuse about needing to go to the shops.

He’d practically become a statue when Lance hugged him, casually, goodbye, asking him to thank Shiro and Allura for their hospitality. He tried not to notice how warm Lance felt, how warm he felt, when they were pressed together like this. Just like how he was trying to ignore the hammering of his own heart against his ribs, or the way Lance smelt like something homely, a fact that he knew sounded weird. The hardest part was trying to swallow the guilt, which had been rising in his stomach and chest like acid whenever Lance so much as smiled at him or... Or whenever he was in the same room. He’d tell him. He had to tell him.

But Lance had gone, with a wave out of the passenger side window, and Keith was left with his guilt eating away at him, crowding every corner of his mind until his head throbbed. Even with the hour long walk he spent with his headphones helping to shut out the noise of a city coming to life did little to draw his attention away from that ache in his chest. By the time he’d made it back to the apartment, he was perfectly at home with the idea of lying alone in his bedroom with the curtains closed and a cold compress on his temples.

But life never worked like that, and the moment he walked through the door, the apartment was a hive of activity from his brother and future roommate. That, of course, ended up with him having a half an hour conversation, before finally being able to retreat to his room, throw himself on the bed, pleased to find that the sheets had been changed after Matt’s sleepover. Of course, the moment his head hit the pillow, his phone began ringing, making his heart leap into his throat. He could ignore it. Lance can wait. Lance can wait-

“Are you going to get that?” Shiro called from the living room.

“Busybody.” Keith muttered to himself, grabbing his phone. His stomach filled with relief when he saw the caller ID.

 

The coffee shop wasn’t far from the Kogane’s apartment building. A twenty minute walk, at most, even in the weather that had drivers and pedestrians crawling at a snail’s pace through the city. It wasn’t as icy as it had been, the salt having thawed out most of Altea’s pavements and roads, but it might has well have been like walking on hot coals. The red paladin’s feet already ached with the strain of the walk that morning.. Still, Keith would have been glad for some kind of excuse not to leave the house, or at least not to see anyone. Although Lotor’s company had never been exhausting, even when Keith had been in the worst of moods, the thought of having to put any energy into conversation filled him with dread. 

He supposed that’s why Lotor had chosen a venue so far from the campus, yet so close to Keith’s that he wouldn’t have the excuse of being too far away. Rounding the corner, the smell of coffee beans and frying bacon ebbed it’s way through the wall Keith was already building around himself, and he found a weight lighten a little at the sight of Lotor sat at one of the many outside tables, a long thick coat fastened tightly around him and gloved hands thrust deep into his pockets. His shoulders, and presumably his hair, was dusted lightly with snow which had stopped only a couple minutes before.

Keith trudged closer, feeling the smallest of smiles tug out at his lips when his friend looked up, grinning in that familiar way he had whenever he’d run into Keith on his way to school, back in the day.

“Keith,” He said warmly, standing tall.

The red paladin went straight into his open arms, relishing the warmth as he was wrapped up in the embrace.

“Thanks for waiting,” Keith mumbled, suddenly aware of the time as he spied the clock in the cafe window. 

“Not at all,” He felt an arm loosely placed around his shoulder as he was lead inside.

The scent of coffee was now accompanied by the even sweeter smell of cakes, cookies, syrups and chocolate, making his mouth water. The Cocoabean was a favourite among many students, and even with the winter assessments over for most schools and colleges, it was still busy. 

“Do you still drink it black? Or do you want something else?”

“I’ll have caramel coffee with cream. But I’m buying.” He added quickly, trying his best to ignore Lotor’s raised eyebrow. “I owe you for all the coffee and McDonald’s you bought me.”

He flushed a little as he was met with a quiet laugh.

“I guess it’s not just your taste that’s gotten sweeter.” 

“Shut up,” He snapped, though his heart wasn’t in it. Lotor’s laugh grew louder.

“The Keith I knew back then would have killed me for paying him a compliment.” 

Unable to suppress the grin, Keith settled for elbowing him in the ribs as he met the tired smile of the barista.

“I’ll have a black coffee. Large.” 

 

Their drinks came quickly, and soon they were seated in a small booth at the window, watching as dirtied slush splattered onto the curb each time a vehicle went by.

“So,” Lotor said into his mug. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

Shrugging, Keith took a tentative sip of his drink, wiping the cream from his nose. It was still too hot, but it gave him something to do with his hands.

“You sounded rather preoccupied on the phone.” He continued. Guess there was no way out of this conversation. It was both a blessing and a curse that Lotor had always seemed so tuned in to Keith’s moods and mannerisms. It made him feel naked, but conversation came a lot more easily once that barrier was broken.

“I had a lot on my mind. Sorry,”

“Don’t be.” The coffee was placed back onto the table. “If you spend too much time in your own head though, you may start listening to the wrong parts of yourself.”

“What’re you studying again?” Keith tried to push back a little, but he knew it was no use. If Lotor wanted to break through his barriers, he would. “Philosophy or psychology?”

“Neither,” Lotor patted the satchel that was placed at his side. “Law and justice.” 

It hadn’t surprised him in the slightest. If he could remember correctly, Haggar, Lotor’s mother, had been a lawyer, where as Zarkon had been a lucrative owner of a business that Keith had never bothered to learn the name of or what it did. He supposed Lotor’s practical and inquisitive nature had all been due to his upbringing.

“You want to be a lawyer? What kind?”

Lotor hummed. “I’m not sure yet. There are so many routes to explore; prosecution, defence, family, fraud, employment... Although my father is pushing me to become part of his corporate legal team. Who knows? I may end up becoming more than just a depository for his ‘Empire’.” 

Despite the light-hearted way he’d smiled, Keith sensed the bitter tone. Zarkon had always been a domineering figure. If he was being honest, he’d always been a little scared of him.

“Not everyone’s like their parents.” Keith added, hoping he hadn’t struck a nerve.

“No, I suppose not.” Lotor took a long drink, some of the light from earlier coming back to his eyes. “But enough about me. What had you so wound up this morning?”

“It’s a long story.” He said, shuffling in his seat. “In fact it’s... It’s several long stories.”

“It’s a good thing that I like long stories then, isn’t it?” 

Keith said nothing, chewing on the thought. Lotor didn’t need to know. Not about Lance, or his dad, or whatever he got up to on webcam. But he was easy to talk to. Easier than Coran. And he wasn’t part of the group. Him knowing wouldn’t jeopardize several friendships in the process.

“You don’t have to tell me. But you know that you can if you want to.”

 

He’d started by simply stating;

“My dad’s in the city.” 

He didn’t know why he’d started with that, but the moment he said it, it became real. Shiro’s dad- his dad - was in Altea, the one place he’d begun to really think of as home. And it took the entirety of his will, his need to hold things together, to be able to swallow down the rage, the fear and devastation that came with acknowledging his father was so close after being so far away for so long. Lotor took a few seconds to comprehend, to let the full weight of Keith’s words sink in.

“I... see.” He sat back, hands still bracing the mug at either side. “... Has he tried to contact you?” The tone was matter-of-fact, cold and blunt. Like icicles. 

“No.”

“Would you want him to contact you?”

Keith blinked before looking down into his own cup, trying to count the sprinkles so he could focus on his breathing while Lotor waited, patiently, for him to answer

“No.” He said again, finally.

“... Are you sure? Don’t you have questions for him?”

“‘Course I have a lot of questions!” He snapped, a little too loudly, noting a few of the nearby patrons turning his way. “Too many fucking questions to know what to ask!” Or where to begin. He took a shuddering breath, gripping drink tighter, like it was a lifeline. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t... It’s not you that I’m-”

“It’s alright.” In the corner of his eye, he could see the other customers had slowly turned away, talking quietly among themselves. No doubt they’d try to eavesdrop if he raised his voice again.

“I just... I can’t deal with it. Not right now...”

Lotor splayed his hands, as if he was trying to prove that he had no weapon, no intention of hurting him.

“You sound like there’s something else on your mind.” 

Another exhale, this time more controlled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“You have no idea.”

Lotor’s elbows pressed against the table as he leaned forward.

“Try me.” 

 

He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said it was a long story, made even longer by having to stop to explain who some people were, or the story behind his crush on Lance and the events that followed. Lotor had sat patiently, impassive for the most part, which was presumably for Keith’s benefit. Sometimes it was easy if you felt like you were talking to a blank canvas instead of a person with the ability to judge you or others.

He’d started from the very beginning; the blissful couple of weeks he had spent settling in to his new home, unpacking and choosing furniture for his new room, always opting for the cheaper option over comfort until Shiro had stepped in, reminding him that the stuff that he was buying was for him was permanent. He would never have to leave anything behind again, if he didn’t want to.  
Then he talked about meeting Lance in the counsellor’s office on his induction day at school, and subsequently being introduced to Hunk. He’d met Pidge the day after moving in, when Shiro had asked Matt for help decorating and to bring her, so he’d know at least one person before he started.  
He talked about the party, and how, in retrospect, it seemed stupid to dwell on that rejection. In light of everything else, it now seemed to small, but at the time it had meant everything to him. Lotor had interjected to tell him that nothing, no matter how trivial it may seem now, could have been considered stupid at the time. Keith almost tried to contest that, but found himself continuing. 

Lotor’s stone front cracked when he talked about the teasing that followed. Sneering whenever Keith talked about the name calling, the flirting, touching him and then laughing whenever a blush crept into his cheeks.

“I got the feeling that he was uncomfortable with you-” and me, he seemed to add, “- but I never thought he was so blunt.” The look in his eyes made a shiver run down Keith’s spine.

Finally, he got to explaining how he found Lance online, stressing that he had no idea who he was talking too until the night before. Despite the effort it must have taken to try and hide the shock or disgust, Lotor’s eyes had grown wide and his mouth had opened and closed over and over again, as if he was trying to form the words to respond to what Keith told him about the webcam. He hadn’t gone into detail- his cheeks heating up and his stomach tying itself in knots when he thought about the pictures and the videos that he’d sent. And the ones he’d received.

“Aren’t you worried what he might do with those photos?” 

The spoon on the table had suddenly become very interesting, and Keith tried to busy himself by lightly tapping it on the palm of his hands. The question wasn’t one Keith hadn’t considered. After all, he’d trusted ‘Sharp-Shooter’ enough with the images, and Lance... No. He may have been a dick, but Keith knew him well enough to guess that he wouldn’t do anything with the photos other than use them for his own... entertainment. The thought sent a wave of anxiety over him. Maybe if he knew who the pictures were of, he’d... Keith cut the thought off as soon as it began to form. Chances were that if Lance found out, he’d just delete the images and not breathe a word to anyone. Especially if his sexuality was so much of a secret.

“No... I mean, I don’t feel comfortable with him having them, but I don’t think he’d send them to anyone.”

“Are you sure?” Lotor leaned in, lowering his voice as a waitress walked by for the fifth or sixth time in so many minutes. “If you need me to get hold of his phone, I am certain I could-”

He couldn’t stop the warm smile. It was like in the days when they were neighbours; Lotor would hear Keith was in trouble and immediately jump to his aide, no matter what was happening.

“I’m sure... But there’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“I think... I’m sure Lance likes me.”

The older boy’s eyebrows knitted in a frown as he sat back with folded arms.

“Well... I would have thought that if he was asking for... personal pictures, then he would have certainly liked what he was seeing.” Keith squirmed a little as he felt Lotor’s gaze glide over him. “And why wouldn’t he? You’ve filled out since-”

“I mean, Lance as Lance!” He sputtered, cheeks flaming red. “Likes likes me in a more-than-friends way... Not ‘Blade.’”

“... Oh...” Lotor’s lack of surprise somehow failed to reassure him. “And he told you this?”

“No. Well... Yeah... Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“You know at Hunk’s party?” The lump in his throat grew bigger with each word.

“Ah, yes. The day I had the pleasure of meeting the delightful little turd-”

“He’s not that bad.” Keith was as surprised at the bite in his tone as Lotor was. “I mean... He thinks you and I are something more, and he told me- I mean ‘Blade’ -that he likes the guy he’s bullied-” He ignored the sneer from Lotor “- for a while and that he didn’t like the guy he’s with. And... I’m pretty sure I’m the only one he goes out of his way to piss off. And-” Muttering into his mug, he added; “He said he liked mullets, when we first met online...”

“How romantic.” Lotor drawled, and Keith suddenly wondered if he should have said nothing. “And he hasn’t told you this in person.”

“... Not in so many words.” Suddenly the urge to disappear was overwhelming as Lotor leaned forward again.

“What does that mean?”

“... He kissed me last night.”

That blank curtain seemed to cross over Lotor’s face again, making him unreadable, and Keith let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Anything else?”

“No... I kissed him back and then when he went to kiss me again, I told him no.”

“... That is probably for the best.”

It was almost like he could feel Lance’s hands on his waist and the touch of lips on lips again. The memory seemed to take over all of his senses, just like it had the night before.

“What should I do? If I tell him who I really am, he’ll hate me and probably never speak to me again... If I don’t tell him, then I’m lying to him. And he has a lot going on right now- I don’t need to add to that.”

“I think,” Lotor mused, “That you won’t like what I have to say.”

Keith straightened in his seat, bracing for the disgust and repulsion that was about to come his way and had expected to be shown earlier.

“I think you’re being used.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. He wasn’t sure he’d even heard correctly.

“... He needed to talk to someone, and I wanted to listen-”

“No, not like that. I mean he’s using you to discover his own sexuality.” When Keith said nothing, he continued. “Think about it. So far, he’s only really used you for a sexual thrill. Even if you believe that you are the first guy he’s ever been this... intimate with, in real life or online, then you’re probably just a stepping stone into him trying to discover something about himself.”

It took some effort to keep from buckling- to keep from accusing Lotor of being wrong and denying what he was being told. But somewhere, deep down, it roused a thought that had been nagging at him unknowingly. 

“But he said he liked me...”

“And that is probably true to some extent.” Lotor’s now empty cup was placed heavily on the table, making Keith flinch at the noise. “Either he thinks he does, or he’s even crueler than I thought.” 

“I don’t get it...” His mind felt fuzzy, tired from every scrap of information that had been dragged out of him.

“He’s bi-curious. And by trying you on, he will know whether he likes men, women or both. But from what you’ve told me,” Lotor emphasised, “You are little more than something he wants to try, rather than someone he wants to be with.”

Keith’s body, face and eyes felt hot, and his mind and heart raced. It made sense, of course, what Lotor was saying. He’d always been the voice of reason, the one to straighten everything out. A couple at the neighbouring table glanced at them curiously, and when he heard Lotor sigh, he looked up. His company’s face had softened into something that Keith read as apologetic and sympathetic. Feeling numb, he accepted the napkin that was being held out to him.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Keith, or lie to you. But wouldn’t you rather hear this from me now, and spare yourself heartache, or would you prefer to find out later and regret everything?”

“Lance isn’t like that...”

“Lance,” Lotor said, reaching for his hand. “Has done this before. He’s built you up to thinking that you can make things work and then pulled the rug out from under your feet. You deserve better than that, Keith.”

Silence. Neither dared speak as Keith let the full weight of the words sink in. It was like a fog had been cleared, a fog which had done nothing but cloud his judgement, entangling his thoughts and perceptions of his peers. Lance wasn’t cruel, Keith knew that. Even the during the teasing and torment, it wasn’t in the blue paladin’s nature to put any venom behind his words, no matter how entertaining it must have been to watch him squirm. But even the bonding and the ‘genuine’ side of Lance hadn’t been meant for Keith to see. 

It was funny, the red paladin could have laughed, at how like him it was to confuse curiosity with certainty, and come to the conclusion that Lance McClain of all people would have any actual interest in him whatsoever. And Keith couldn’t understand why the revelation left him feeling somewhere between numb and despondent. It seemed now, that he should have known from the very beginning that he was only suited to be a friend and nothing more.

“I’m sorry.” The gentle tone caught him off guard. “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear.” 

Keith shook his head, a wan smile falling into place. He could be angry at the guy sitting across from him, but Lotor was nothing if not infuriatingly honest. Unlike Keith, who’s honesty only served to offend, even if that wasn’t the intention. 

“... I’ve been an idiot.”

“No, you haven’t.” Lotor’s grip on his hand tightened, but still remained gentle, tethering him to the here and now. “You were hopeful.”

 

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering through Altea’s shopping district in the city center. Trees lined the pavement and the square, with iron cages surrounding the thin trunks in an attempt to help them survive and grow through the winter. Cafes and restaurants with folding windows or walls would open themselves up in the warmer months, with chairs and tables spilling out onto the street, along with the rich aroma of all the different types of cuisines and spices that Altea had to offer, from all over the world it seemed. But since the storms and cold spells that preceded the first snowfall, all the shops and eateries had made a point of keeping their doors and windows well and truly sealed, to preserve heat and entice customers into the welcoming warmth of the dining rooms.

Even now, after breakfast with Lance that morning and the muffin he’d bought as they were leaving The Cocoabean still filling his stomach, the thought of opening any one of those doors and pigging out was enough to make his stomach rumble.

Lotor kept an even pace alongside him, hands thrust deep into his pockets as he blew out a breath, watching the steam collect and ebb away in front of him each time he did so. Keith hadn’t been sure he’d been in the mood for more time out of the house, not after the conversation in the cafe. For a while he feared that the tension would make the awkwardness unbearable, and his friend would either question his silence or worse; leave.  
Thankfully though, Lotor had seemed content to walk in silence, maybe aware that Keith was trying to arrange his thoughts into something less... Loud. And scattered. And when the taller of the two did finally speak, he did it with same charm and charisma that seemed to have the ability to soothe any situation, choosing not to bring up Lance or his father. 

Despite his initial reservations, his pre-planned excuses to go home and sulk, they’d already perused a few shops, including a bookstore that Keith had taking a liking to, a market that sold alternative clothes, a gaming store and now headed into a second hand shop that specialised in games, DVD’s, CD’s and consoles. Lotor had raised an eyebrow at the latter.

“You’re brother is rich and you still spend your time in a thrift store?”

Keith inspected the label on an old gameboy, checking for cracks in the viridescent screen.

“It’s different every time I come in here. Y’never know what someone might have pawned.”

Lotor’s responding snort drew a smile from the red paladin.

“You mean you never know how much someone got ripped off, more like.”

His smile grew bigger, unrestrained as nostalgia washed over him. So much like the days before Shiro. Even if they hadn’t the happiest days of his life, Lotor’s easygoing nature had always been upside of having a foster placement so close to his friend. He’d opened his mouth to say as much, when a familiar, inquiring voice spoke up from behind him.

“Keith!”

The gameboy nearly flew out of his hands and onto the floor as he jumped.

“Damnit, Pidge!” Keith whirled to face the green paladin, who now stood grinning, eyebrow raised at her friend’s flustered expression. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“It’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.” Her eyes drifted towards (and then up) to Lotor, who looked equally entertained at the spectacle. A silent question was directed towards Keith, who busied himself with placing the console back on its original shelf.

“Pidge, you remember Lotor, right?”

“Yeah, you were at Hunk’s.” She accepted the hand that was offered to her, looking somewhat disconcerted when her fingers were brought up to his lips, and a kiss was placed on the back of her palm.

“Katherine Holt, if I remember correctly.” It came out as more of a statement than a question.

To her credit, Pidge didn’t flush at featherlight kiss that no doubt still lingered on her hand. Keith had recoiled away from the touch, feeling his cheeks flame red the first time he’d ever felt those lips pressed against his cheek. Instead she just looked between the two of them, quizzically.

“Yeah, that’s right... So, what are you two up to?”

“Nothing.” Keith responded a little too quickly, causing raised eyebrows from the two of them. “We’re just hanging out.” He said, a bit more calmly.

“Cool.” She adjusted the straps on her tattered old backpack, which was likely filled with old bits of circuit boards, wires and books, if she was shopping for parts. “I was about to call you. Lance is coming to mine after he’s finished at the hospital, and Hunk’ll be there too.” She glanced at Lotor before adding. “Do you guys want to come?”

He tried his best not to wince at the former’s name. Tried not to let any emotion show as he searched for the words to-

“We would love to.” His heart sank a little and his stare shot to Lotor in surprise, before he added “But we have plans for the afternoon. Another time, perhaps?” Lotor’s smile was charming, as he practically purred. “Katie.”

Keith held his breath, waiting for Pidge to snap at him, unrelenting, like a tiny ball of paladin rage for the use of her nickname. The one that was only reserved for family and Shiro, and even then it was seldom used. 

Instead, the green paladin fixed him with a searching stare, seemingly taking his stance, the space between them and the charming smile. None of it phased her, not in the way it had phased Keith all those years ago. She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and turned to Keith, smiling like she knew a deadly secret. He wouldn’t have put it passed her actually.

“Another time.”

Lotor watched, perplexed and astonished as she sauntered out the door without a look back. 

“She’s certainly... Composed.” The bemusement in his eyes sent Keith over the edge, as hysterical laughter poured out of him, only growing in volume and quantity at the soon-to-be-lawyer’s increasing bewilderment written across his face.

“What?”

“Your face!” He said between gasps, finally managing to compose himself enough to string a few words together. “It looks like you’ve finally met someone who’s immune to your charms!”

He erupted into laughter again as Lotor frowned, looking back towards the door. 

“Don’t look so disappointed in yourself. Pidge,” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I’m pretty sure Pidge doesn’t let anyone get to her like that. Even you!” The final fit of giggles, actual fucking giggles, finally subsided, and his heart warmed a little at the smile that played upon Lotor’s lips.

“Speaking of people who are a law unto themselves.” He brushed a loose strand of hair out of Keith’s eyes. “I haven’t seen you laugh like that in a long time.”

It took every inch of self restraint not to lean into the touch, to not press his cheek against the palm so close to his face and ear.

“... Thanks,”

“I didn’t mean it sarcastically-”

“No, I mean it... Thank you. For listening today. It really... It means a lot.”

The hand was removed and placed back into the pocket as Lotor surveyed Keith, a look so genuine that he wondered why he hadn’t put more effort into staying in touch. He swallowed the guilt as best he could.

“Well... It means a lot to me that you’d tell me.”  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I just don’t like the guy.” 

Lance said, for might have been seventh or thirteenth time for all he knew. The tennis ball he’d been casually throwing up towards the light fitting on the sealing landed in his palm with a ‘thwack’, once again. His mother had called, finally. Mima was stable, in the best place she could possibly be right now. But she needed rest. A lot of it. And he’d have to wait until the morning to see her. Part of him wondered if his mom was just trying to spare him from seeing his grandmother in pain... Either way, he wasn’t going to press the issue. Not when she sounded so tired.

“We heard you the first time, Lance.” Pidge’s eyes didn’t leave the screen she was fixated on; the codes on the screen appearing and disappearing so fast that Lance had long since stopped trying to work out what she was up to. When it came to Katherine Holt and computers, things were best left unknown.

“And where does he get off calling you ‘Katie’?! Even I’m not allowed to call you that!” Pidge ignored him, despite the urge to throw a plate or a boot at him.

Hunk inspected a the empty noodle pots, bowls, jars of peanut butter and the clothes strewn about across the room.

“How do you find anything in here?”

“Organised chaos.” Pidge mumbled, not really paying full attention. “Don’t touch anything or I won’t be able to find it.”

Hunk made a face that told Lance that he had no intention of touching anything in Pidge’s room, for fear he’d succumb to septicaemia.

“There’s probably more bacteria in these bowls than in a Comodo dragon’s mouth.”

“I like it that way. It keeps the peasants out.”

Hunk blanched, moving back to sit on the chair at the table where Lance was currently laying on his back.

“Lotor’s not that bad when you get to know him.” The Samoan had spent the majority of the afternoon trying to play the middle-man.

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust anyone that looks like they abuse house elves.”

“Point.” Pidge exclaimed from where she was almost completely hidden behind the screen.

“Look, Keith’s just reunited with this guy, and it looks like they were pretty close before. He’s gonna want to catch up with him.” 

Lance sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the desk so hard that Hunk had to brace his hand against it to keep it from rocking. 

“Did you see the way Keith ran to him at your party, though? He never does that! He barely lets anyone high five him!”

The other two didn’t bother trying to hide the exasperation on their face. Hunk, however, had the grace not to push to topic. Not when Pidge would do it for him.

“Dude, he used to do that with you. Remember whenever you guys came here? You’d practically be having sex in my front room when we were trying to watch Lucifer.”

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, he stumbled over his words. “We never had sex!”

“Well, no...” Hunk’s reddened face was enough of an indication that the topic was well and truly out of his comfort zone. “But you did used to get kind of touchy with each other.”

“That was purely planetonic!” 

“Platonic, Lance. Plah-tonic.” 

He threw his hands up, trying to fight the urge to throw something at the pair before him.

“Same difference! It wasn’t weird!”

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck, looking increasingly bashful as he spoke softly.

“It wasn’t weird... But you did used to let him sit in your lap.”

“Practically insisted on it, actually.” Pidge added.

“And flirt with him.”

“Excessively.”

“And you used to stroke his hair and his arms and his chest whenever you were cuddling on the couch.”

“Soft foreplay.”

“Shut up!” Lance snapped, drawing his legs up, so he sat cross legged. “All I’m saying is that I don’t trust him! He just seems so...” He trailed off, trying to find the words. Several came to mind, none of which were G-rated.

“If it really bothers you, just talk to Keith about it.” Hunk offered, leaning back slightly. “The worst he can do is tell you to leave.”

“And he does that all the time.” Pidge added, pinching the bridge of her nose with he thumb and forefinger. “While you’re at it, why don’t you just admit that you like him.”

Lance whipped round, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to string the words together to deny it. To deny anything that either of them had said.

“I can’t- I mean I don’t-” 

“It’s okay, y’know?” Hunk said so quietly that it grounded the rising panic that was building in the blue paladin’s stomach. “To like guys as well as girls.”

“And it’s okay to be scared of what that might mean. But no one’s going to like you less for swinging both ways... And if they do, they’re not worth listening to.”

For a while, the only thing he could hear, the only thing he was aware of the hammering of his own heart, as it calmed to a steady, hard beat, and he let go of a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. Released the tension in his shoulders like he’d been carrying a sack of bricks for all these years. They were his friends, the best friends he could have ever hoped for. And if he couldn’t trust them, then there was no one that he could trust.

“... How long have known? That I’m bi.” The words left him like steam, and he suddenly felt deflated.

“Since elementary school. I just got a feeling.” Hunk’s gaze travelled to Pidge.

“When you met Keith. You looked like a bigger idiot in love than you did when Mrs Robinson got her shirt wet in home ec.”

His cheeks warmed a little at the memory, but he shook his head, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

“I really don’t think it’s necessary to tell Keith about... About how I feel.” 

Pidge groaned, as if the conversation had gone one step forward only to then take two steps back.

“Then stop moaning about-”

“He already knows...” Lance busied himself, trying to look anywhere but at his two friends, who’d stuck by him through everything. The carpet suddenly seemed very interesting, especially when the silence that had filled the room made him tense and agitated.

“What?!” They both exclaimed so loudly that Lance practically threw himself backwards in fear that he might be dragged off the table. As it was, Pidge was already on her feet, striding towards him, while Hunk had stood so hard that has chair had fallen to the ground. His hands were placed on either side of Lance, as they both stared at him, wide eyed, suppressing grins.

“You told him?!”

“What did he say?!”

Lance raised his hands, if only to keep the advancing duo from completely smothering him.

“Nothing! Well, not nothing... I didn’t really say anything.”

Both inclined their heads to the side, waiting for him elaborate. It was uncanny how much it reminded him of his nieces and nephews, whenever they were watching Scooby doo, waiting for the reveal.

“I kissed him.” The words left him tightly, but continued to flow. “Last night, we were checking out the view on the roof and I... Yeah.” 

Neither of them said anything. Perhaps they’d already put the pieces together from the hunch in his shoulders and his furrowed brow, that this story didn’t have a happy ending. Or at least not like the ones that had played out in his head.

“... Did he say anything?” It was Hunk who now spoke, softly, trying to mask the excitement and curiosity hiding just beneath the surface.

“He pushed me away. He said he couldn’t do it.” 

Neither tried to comfort him. They knew better than to fill him with false hope and empty promises. Not when Lance would so easily believe them.

“At least you tried?” Hunk offered, trying to find the good in the bad, as per usual. “Even if you didn’t get what you wanted in the end, no one can say that you didn’t try.”

“Talk to him.” Was all Pidge said, with such intensity that Lance felt himself shiver at the tone. The voice of someone a girl who was wise beyond her years.

“We tried that-”

“Try again. Without the surprise make out sessions.”

He blinked, although Pidge held his stare.

“It wasn’t a make out session-”

“Keith will listen to you. Let him know that you mean it. That you’re not just... Trying to score some points.”

Lance took in a breath. He’d been rejected. Plenty of times. Enough times to know that he could survive the blow to his pride, his ego, but with Keith... It was different. He tried to analyse it. Tried to weigh up the pros of closure with the cost of possibly pushing him away further. The cost of rejection would be so much higher than the girls in his class, or the ones he met at the mall. And something coiled around his chest at the thought of Keith locking himself away again.

“... How do I deal with him?” The question was aimed at Pidge. Out of the three of them, she’d known him the longest, and had been the only one to hang out with him, alone, on a regular basis since the group had begun to crumble. 

“Can’t help you there.” She stalked back to her computer, seemingly pleased at whatever showed on the screen. “Keith’s your code to crack.”

Lance let out a whine, Hunk patting him half heartedly on the back. 

“C’mon, Pidge! Help a guy out!”

“I’m not kidding. I know things about Keith that isn’t in my place to tell.”

“You’re literally hacking into the school’s personal records-” Hunk was cut off abruptly, with an unusual sharpness that made them both look at her.

“If you put in the effort, if you show him that he can trust you, who knows. He’ll probably end up telling you everything.”

Lance released a sigh, running his fingers through the tresses of his chocolate-coloured hair.

“... I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D


	10. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas every one!
> 
> I'm so sorry for the hiatus, but I have some big news! I started university three months ago and got buried under a tonne of assignments and exam preparations! Two jobs have been keeping me super busy (and exhausted), but my hours are being cut down as of next semester, so I'll have more time to write! (YAAAAY!) I've really missed writing this story, and when I managed to pick it back up again at Christmas break, I was super excited and decided to post this chapter on Christmas day!
> 
> I just want to say a massive thank you for all your patience and support! It's been nearly a year since I started this story (I actually began writing it boxing day of 2017!) and I wish each and every one of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter! I was in a rush to get this one out! XD

It was a crisp morning, although snow hadn’t fallen since the day before and the winter sun was finally on the rise, basking the buildings in a low light that would soon turn the frozen ground into a blinding white canvas in the areas where the salt and snow ploughs hadn’t worked their magic. Even through his gloves, Lance’s fingers had yet to feel the benefit of a hot cardboard cup of cheap coffee that would soon melt away the remaining cold that had seeped through his many layers of clothing. None of the busses that morning had been particularly well-heated, and he had at least a twenty-minute wait between each time he had to change to another bus line that would eventually lead him to the Holt’s. Long enough for him to feel sorry for himself but not enough for him to run into the nearest cafe and beg the barista to let him stand by the stoves.  
Pidge had greeted him, unceremoniously, at eight in the morning, after Lance had spent the last hour and half trying to travel the distance between his house and hers while beating the morning rush of traffic. It hadn’t worked. But he’d been grateful that his friend, despite being known to be feral before breakfast, had at least showed up at the door sated with a piece of toast hanging from her mouth and her eyes glued on her tablet. He hadn’t woken the beast, and Matt had been waiting for him, as promised, to show him the full extent of the damage to his crappy old motorbike and to tell him what options, if any, he had when it came to repairs. Why any of this couldn’t have been done over the phone at a more human hour was beyond him, but if he was anything like his sister, then Matt would want to go into a lengthy, in depth discussion about the mechanics and engineering behind the vehicle before actually giving Lance any inkling about what was going on. And despite his initial protests, and panic at the amount of parts that’d need repairing or replacing, he’d accepted the lift to the hospital, which had only taken about twenty minutes with the way Matt drove.

 

So, making his way through the parking lot, Lance blew a breath into his hands, hoping to catch some of its warmth before he succumbed to the forty-five below weather. He almost let out a groan of pleasure and relief when he’d walked through the entrance and into the blissful heat. It was only an hour into visitation and the reception was already filled with loved ones bearing flowers, grapes and stuffed animals. Signing the check-in list, he skipped the queue at the desk and made his way down the corridors, glad that his mother had text him his grandmother’s ward number that morning. Another night shift and another day of dealing with her family. She must have been exhausted.

His older sisters, Alicia and Josephine and the latter’s husband and children had spent the night, insisting she could manage getting all of their younger siblings to school without Lance ‘pissing about with plaiting the girl’s hair and riling Raul up’. So, somewhat glad that he’d been spared the task of waking, dressing and feeding his youngest sisters, Zoe and Mia, or his niece and nephew, Florence and Lucas, Lance had left at six-thirty, half an hour after his house had come alive with the sound of Alicia’s daughter, Sophie, yelling that she was awake and needed the bathroom. The only thing he’d been sure to do was set Raul’s alarm for seven. His brother could sleep through anything, and with Bianca and Raul’s school still being open, he didn’t trust the latter not to sleep through the entire day.

 

Under usual circumstances, all of this responsibility would naturally land on Lance as the oldest live-in child. That was if his mother was on night-shifts or his father, bless his cotton socks, was simply ‘too tired from work’ to get up and deal with his own children. At least not until they were all up, fed and packed for school.   
Lance pushed the bitter thoughts away, counting the room numbers until he reached the right corridor. It was all less stuff for his mama to worry about, and she, of all people, could use a break.

 

He knocked twice before entering, closing the door gently behind him to make as little noise as possible. Mima was still asleep, propped up on a mountain of soft pillows, with her arms above the sheets, as if she’d fallen asleep reading. Indeed, her book lay on the table, like someone had moved it from where it had fallen on her lap. He was glad to see that someone, probably his mama, had thrown her own crocheted quilt over the top of the hospital covers. Otherwise, the plain, tight-fitted sheets would have looked too much like a shroud. The thought alone made him shudder.

 

Movement in the corner made him whirl around, nearly knocking a vase of flowers from the end table at the foot of her bed.

 

“Cagando al infierno!” He yelped, hushing himself as soon as he felt the words leaving his lips. Had his grandmother been awake, dementia or no, she would have throttled him for swearing.

 

Bianca stared back at him with tired, red-rimmed eyes that were underlined with dark circles and pale lips. Or at least they seemed pale without her usual make up. Her coat was being used as a blanket, pulled over the front of her body and up to her shoulders in a way that suggested it was more for comfort than an actual need for warmth.

 

“You scared the crap out me.” He said, in a hushed whisper, still in Spanish. “Why aren’t you at school?” 

 

His sister looked away from him, to their grandmother, who snored quietly from the bed. 

 

“I wanted to be here. I wouldn’t have been able to think properly in class.” Her voice hoarse, tight with tears that still hadn’t been shed, despite how much she must have been crying earlier.

 

Lance placed his backpack on the ground by the coat hooks and took a seat in the small, rickety armchair next to her, a small table with a box of tissues separating them.

 

“Okay, but does mama know you’re here? You saw how pissed she was when she found Raul hiding in a dumpster when he tried to skip school.” Lance wished he had something to give her to take her mind off this whole damned mess. Some chocolates, a book, anything.

 

“Yes... I called mama before I set off. She said I could stay with mima but I have to go to school this afternoon and collect all the work I missed.” She sniffed, grabbing a tissue and wringing it in her hands, as if it was the only thing keeping her composed. No matter how old he’d get, nothing will break his heart more than seeing his sister cry.

 

Lance, shifting to make as much space as possible on his chair, raised one arm and nodded at her, swallowing the tightness in his throat away as she moved to sit next to him, wrapping her arms as tight as she could around his torso. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head as quiet sobs broke free and Bianca fell apart in his arms. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” Murmuring, he grabbed another tissue to replace the one she’d torn. 

 

“For what?” She said, through her tears. The end of her nose was red and shiny, and Lance tried to ignore the way her brow crinkled.

 

“For yelling at you. The other night.” 

 

Against his chest, he could feel her shake her head. 

 

“I’m sorry I ran off...”

 

“You had every right to.” Lance pushed. “I was a dick... And I shouldn’t have gone to work. I should’ve just gone up and talked to you.”

 

Bianca looked up at him, incredulous. “I’d... I’d forgotten about that. What with...” She nodded a head towards their grandmother, who shuffled a little under the sheets.

 

“Still...” He said, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “I could have handled it better.”

 

“You always do this.” Bianca mumbled, finally looking a little more awake.

 

“Do what?”

 

“You dwell on things. What you could have done differently... If snapping at me is the worst thing you’ve ever done, Lance, then you’re the best big brother in the world.”

 

Something in his heart warmed at the lopsided smile she gave him, so much like his own grin, and he squeezed her into a hug one more time before sitting back.

 

“Well, damn. Now I need to step up my game!” Laughing, he stood up, so suddenly that she fell to the floor with a cry of alarm.

 

“Ass!”

 

“Language!” He offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. “It still doesn’t excuse what I did.”

 

“You can buy me a hot chocolate from the cafeteria if you really feel that bad.”

 

“Yeah, fuck off, I don’t feel that bad!”

“Lance!” Julietta stepped into the room, glaring at him with that look that all mothers seem to have honed. The one that made kids stop in their tracks and made teenagers feel like the cold hand of death just poked them in the rib. “I taught you better than to speak to your sister like that!”

 

Lance could only gape, looking between his smug little sister and his mother, who would have seen no wrong in any of her daughters. Clearly, she had never heard the mouth Bianca had on her whenever their parents weren’t home. But he knew by now that it was an argument he was never going to win, and everyone was too tired to try now.

 

“Sorry,” Lance muttered, giving Bianca a shove hard enough to knock her onto the floor. She’d been anticipating it though, standing up and flipping him off behind her back.

 

The door closed again, and his mother went to the side of the bed, placing one gentle sun-spotted hand on the withered fingers of his grandmother. She studied the charts that had been tucked into the panel at the side of her bed.

 

“How was she last night?”

 

“Hm? She was awake.” His mother said, not taking her eyes off the sheet. “I came in to check on her whenever I could. And she’s been eating properly.”

 

The relief swelled in his chest and he felt himself slump into the chair.

 

“Bianca, querido?”

 

“Si, mama?”

 

“Could you refill her water jug? There’s a refreshment station down the hall.”

 

“Si, mama.”

 

And with that, she was gone, jug in hand, glad for the temporary distraction which came from feeling like you were doing something.

 

In the light, Lance could see the dark circles under his mother’s eyes and the way her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, like she hadn’t had the time to carefully smooth the curls like she normally would when she was at home. Even her frown seemed to be a permanent part of her face now. A look that made Lance feel... He didn’t know. He forgot sometimes that his mother wasn’t indestructible.

 

“Lance,” He snapped out of his thoughts, looking at his mother who, in turn, glanced at the door as if she was expecting someone to eavesdrop. “Lance, I... I don’t want to tell Bianca just yet. And I’ve been worrying all night about whether I should tell you.”

 

“... What is it?” The knot in his stomach lashed out, lassoing around his chest and throat, tightening around all his major organs until he forgot how to breath, or swallow or even think.

 

“Sweetheart.” She sat down in the seat Bianca had resided in when he’d arrived. She seemed to be weighing something, looking at him as if... As if she was really seeing him. “Oh, nornio...” Lance wanted to sob. He wanted to curl up and let his mother hold him, cradle him and kiss the top of his head like she had when he was a child and he’d been upset. But he bit down on the rising panic, trying not to focus on the fact that the woman who had led him by the hand his whole life now looked so lost. Lost for words, or maybe at a loss of what to do. 

She brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes, as if she was imagining his tear stained cheeks.

 

“... You know what happens with a stroke?”

 

He nodded, the ache in his throat almost unbearable now. He couldn’t speak, not unless he wanted his voice to betray him.

 

“You know that the risk of it happening again is... Is high.”

 

He said nothing, he only watched as she searched him. Searching his eyes for any sign that this was all going to be too much.

 

“... You were closer to her than anyone.” She said, in a tone that made him not even question her words.

 

“I still am... Close to her, I mean.” Lance said, with surprising control over what could very well turn into a meltdown.

 

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she took one of his hands, giving it a firm squeeze. He’d seen her do this before. Seen her give family and friends devastating, life-altering news with right amount of empathy and steadiness. But this time it was different... He was being told that there was nothing anyone could do. He was the one being comforted. And his mother... How Julieta hadn’t broken under the strain of everything was enough to make his heart swell with pride.

 

“... She’s going to be very hard to look after, Lance. She’ll need round the clock care, a proper routine... Specialist equipment.” She ran a thumb over his knuckles, trying to soothe what she already figured was brewing. “... And I can’t put that on you. I can’t... I can’t ask any of you to do that for her.”

 

“I can look after her!” The panic rose, along with his voice. “I have been looking after her!” 

 

“Shh!” She hushed, glancing behind her, where Magdelena stirred in her bed. “Sh, I know, nornio, I know.” Lance didn’t sit down, but he yielded, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. “I know you can do it... But I won’t ask that of you because... Because I don’t want it to hurt you.”

 

“I can handle it-”

“Lance, you always knew that she might end up in a home one day... It’s a hard choice, for me and for your dad-”

 

Lance felt a snarl rip from his throat before he had a chance to reign in the anger that had been pooling in his chest. No, not pooling. Overflowing. 

 

“She has a home!”

 

His mother said nothing. She only stared, searching him as he pulled himself away, folding his arms across his chest and lifting his chin high in defiance. The only defiance he’d ever shown her.

 

“And why does he even have a say in any of this shit? He doesn’t even care! I’ve never seen him lift a finger to help her! To help you!”

 

The room, and the corridor outside, seemed to fall silent. Or maybe that was the silence of the roaring in his head that came as soon as he saw the way his mother’s shoulders hunched, and her warm eyes filled with something he couldn’t quite place. It was too alien on her features. And in that moment, he knew where he’d seen it before. Where he’d seen those walls being built up.

 

“Is that why you’ve pushed him away?”

 

“What?”

“Your papa? Is this,” A vague tilt of the head towards the blankets. “Why you’ve been arguing with him.”

His throat tightened. It wasn’t like he’d tried to hide his disdain, but he’d been careful not to argue when his mother was home. Or when his siblings were in earshot, for that matter.

“… I don’t know what-“

“Lance.” Her tone… Something in the way her voice changed broke something deep within him. It was gentle, or harsh, just… defeated. And it scared him to think she might break too. “Please, baby… You were so so close. You were inseparable once… Why won’t you look at him? What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” 

He felt the tears fall. He felt them run down his cheek and onto his lips. But he refused to look away. 

“… People grow apart sometimes, mama.” 

“Lance… What’s happened?”

“… I…” 

They both started when the door swung open, just wide enough for Bianca to enter with a jug of water and three paper cups of what smelt like coffee and hot chocolate.

“They didn’t have decaff-“

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Julietta stood, taking one of the cups from her and clearing some space on the table for the jug. “I’m going to need something stronger today, I think.”

 

Keith shifted the weight of the bags from one arm to the other, his shoulders already beginning to ache despite only beginning his shopping trip a couple hours before. He’d had the foresight to bring a large backpack; the kind that he and Shiro used whenever they went hiking and needed to lug tents, chairs and cooking equipment through the forest. Even with the wide belt of the rucksack strapped around his waist to distribute some of the load away from his shoulders, he still would have been happier to have his bike. At least then he could have moved some of the gifts into the panniers and gotten around town faster than on his own two feet. With a groan, he adjusted the straps once more, the force of the bag lifting higher nearly making him topple over. He took a step to steady himself, right as a laugh sounded from behind him.

“I told you to let me carry something.”

“I’m fine,” Keith gritted out, patting his pocket to make sure his phone hadn’t fallen out in the struggle. “It’s just a pain to keep taking it on and off again.”

Lotor chuckled again, laying an arm across Keith’s shoulders.

“Stubborn.”

“Prick.”

“As usual, your kind words overwhelm me.”

Under normal circumstances, Keith would’ve protested to the arm around his shoulders, which was currently being used to steer him away from the crowded shops and markets. But frankly he was glad for the little extra guidance. He’d never been great around swarms of people and Lotor was the only thing stopping him from shoving past a family of five who were taking up the entire walkway.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have just stayed at mine.”

“Because, my dear Keith, you wouldn’t stop pacing. And you said yourself that you hadn’t started Christmas shopping yet.”

He grumbled a little, leaning in to the taller male a bit more to squeeze passed a man on his phone stood stationary in front of the crossing. True, he hadn’t started shopping yet, but he’d always began anything festive in the last week before Christmas day. It wasn’t like he had many presents to buy. Just something for Shiro and Allura, and a couple of smaller things for Matt and Pidge. But he did suppose it didn’t hurt to get it out of the way early. Especially now that he had more than four people to buy for. The aforementioned group now included Lance, Hunk and Lotor, the latter of whom was currently managing a lot better under the strain of all of his gifts, despite having far more. Keith considered stopping by the hospital to leave a small gift of chocolates for Mrs McClain but wondered if her son would have anything to say about it. Then again, Lance seemed to dote on his mother and probably wouldn’t object to any act of kindness shown her way. And that brought back the thoughts that had been nagging him all day; what the hell would Lance even want from him for Christmas?

The thought alone had started off simple. Keith would buy his friends something small, but personal, like any other teenager. It had only grown more complicated when he mulled over what to get the Cuban, whose tastes seemed limited to games and girls… And guys, Keith added quickly. Even if it wasn’t a question of what to get Lance, it would be how much should he spend? Now that he knew that the quiet kid from his English class was actually loaded, would he be expecting something expensive? Keith could afford to buy him a new computer system if he asked, or even a new bike, but would that be obnoxious? Maybe Lance wouldn’t want anything, and by getting him a present, Keith would be putting him in the awkward position of expecting Lance to get him something in return. He chewed on his chapped lip some more.

“What are you thinking?”

Keith jolted. He’d almost forgotten Lotor was there, despite now standing shoulder to shoulder at the pedestrian lights. 

“Lance.” He said quietly. There was no point in lying. Not when Lotor could read him like a book anyway.

“What about Lance?”

“I don’t know what to get him for Christmas.”

Lotor hummed, linking his fingers through the handle of one of the bags Keith had been unable to fit into his backpack. Their fingers brushed together as they shared its weight.

“You’re getting him a present?”

“You’re getting one too…” 

An amused smile tugged at Lotor’s lip as he raised an eyebrow. 

“Thank you. I was just surprised, is all. I didn’t think he’d be particularly deserving of any gift you could give him.” 

Keith didn’t answer. Instead he just checked his phone, trying to busy himself instead of meeting his friend’s side long stare.

“Are you sure it’s such a good idea? It seems to me that Lance isn’t particularly good at reading situations… He might read into your gift more than he ought to.”

“Stop,” Keith elbowed him lightly. “Lance is… Lance is fine, socially. Usually… He doesn’t have problems making friends. I don’t want to fight him anymore.”

“Ah… So, it’s a peace offering?”

“Sort of… I don’t know. It’s just a gift. Between friends.”

“And it has nothing to do with you buying a new phone, hm?”

His body went taught for a second as a wave of guilt rose in his stomach. The phone store had been one of the first places they’d stopped. He hadn’t bought anything fancy, just one that’d do the job. 

“It struck me as odd that you’d buy a new phone, when your old one is in perfect condition.”

“Look, it’s not… It’s not what you think.” 

Lotor didn’t look at him accusingly or pointedly as he spoke.

“And what do I think?”

“I’m not trying to lead him on… I just… He’s got a lot going on. I want him as a friend, if nothing else.”

Keith’s heart hammered in his chest.

“… Just as long as you know what you’re doing.”

He let out a sigh but straightened up. It seemed like for the first time in weeks, his head was clear.

“I do.”

It had taken nearly half an hour to reach the student district from the city centre, and despite the crowds making it hard to move faster than a shuffle, Lotor didn’t once suggest that they order a cab or take the bus. In fact, he’d seemed more than content to just mosey along the pavement with Keith at his side as he talked at length about his degree and classmates. Keith half listened, while he tried to make sense of the campus. It was familiar to him, seeing as Altea’s university seemed to interwoven with the city itself, with two main roads running through the large campus, but Keith had never had any reason to visit the student village beyond curiosity. Even then he’d only walked by the small lake one spring, when Allura had told him about a story her dad once related to her, about tiny faeries and lights that’d play on the lily-pads. It was a ridiculous notion, and he had long since grown out of fables. But the Texan had never lost a sense of wonder. Whenever he read a story, fantasy or sci-fi, he had the urge to go find where it was based.

But now, Lotor had lead them passed small supply shops and minimarts to a large, pristine building, one of the new additions to the university’s ever growing student accommodation. And Keith couldn’t help but gape.  
“I thought you lived in a student house!” 

The houses, from what he’d heard, were large, but the rooms were separated to make more, albeit smaller, rooms. They were moderately priced, and usually contained a kitchen with the bare essentials and very little storage space for individuals to stow away their things. Now, the building before them bore one of the more elite student homes, which Keith had read about when he was bored in class and had happened to be scrolling through his phone. The apartments accommodated to a range of needs, and students could opt to live on their own or live with up to two roommates. Each tenant would get a large room to themselves, with an ensuit bathroom (including a large bath, and not just a shower), a spacious living room and a large kitchen that was fitted with a dishwasher, washing machine, a trash compactor and a fridge with an ice dispenser. Even Shiro had snorted when Keith had told him, saying that when he and Matt were at college, they once lived with a broken fridge for a year and shared a single room with two beds and communal kitchen downstairs. If he’d wanted, he probably could have talked their father into renting him an apartment nearby.

“I moved into here a couple weeks ago.”

The key turned and the door opened, and Keith gaped some more. The apartment was just like it was in the photos, except somehow even more… Pristine. He would have sworn that the flat was still vacant if it wasn’t for the shelf filled with CDs and vinyl records.

“It’s a bit much, I know. But I can just about afford the luxury,”

Keith swallowed and then smirked.

“So, you couldn’t part with the rich kid lifestyle, even as a student?” He said with a sly grin.

Lotor laughed, leaning against the archway to the living room.

“What can I say? I was raised to want the best. And you can’t talk, seeing as you are also a,” He raised an eyebrow as he air-quoted; “’rich kid.’”  
“I’m not a rich kid.”  
“You’re young. And you’re rich. Forgive me if I’m missing some other kind of criteria,”

Keith set his bags on the floor, barely supressing a sigh as the weight of the backpack finally left his shoulders.

“Do I act like a rich kid?”

“Well, you certainly don’t dress like one.”

Keith huffed, tugging his signature red jacket tighter around himself. 

“Y’sure your roommates won’t mind me being here?”

Lotor’s grin widened as he tipped his head back, almost like he was trying to savour the sound of the wind whistling through the trees.

“Do you hear anyone here?”

Keith peered around him, into the living room. Three doors led off into what appeared to be a cupboard, the main bathroom and…

“You live here by yourself? What about-“

“Anita and I broke up. About two weeks ago, actually.”

“Oh…” Keith felt a tug of guilt for not asking. He’d been so wrapped up in his own ever-growing assembly line of problems that he hadn’t once asked about how things were really going with Lotor.

“Don’t.”

He blinked. “… Don’t what?”

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Lotor finally moved away from the threshold and beckoned him into the living room. “I broke up with her. And I wanted my own space, away from all the noise and the parties. I could never get into them anyway.” 

Relief weighed on him. The need for silence and solitude was something Keith could understand. But even he longed for company every once in a while.

“Don’t you get lonely though?”

Another lazy grin, and Lotor was shedding his coat, throwing it over the armchair. 

“That’s why you’re here, Keithy darling.”

The Texan cringed underneath his blush.

“Don’t ever call me that.”

Another laugh, loud and full of the amusement Keith had grown used to when he’d lived next door.

“Come on. Let’s open a bottle of wine and toast to new beginnings.”

Feeling himself relax into the sofa, Keith hummed his agreement.

 

Lance wasn’t sure why he’d accepted the lift. Under normal circumstances, he probably would’ve opted to take yet another three bus rides just to avoid this exact situation. Then again, if normal circumstances were indeed applicable, he’d have his bike and would be free from the tension currently building up inside his father’s seven-seater sedan. 

He hadn’t spoken the entire way to Bianca’s school, although he’d listened intently to her conversation with Nicholas McClain. Although she still seemed tired and weighed down with worry, she offered their dad an easy smile and talked through what classes she’d have that afternoon and what work she’d missed that morning. Nicholas, to his credit, laughed along and made all the usual dad jokes, seemingly trying to lighten the mood for her sake. And that was the only thing Lance was grateful for. He’d made sure to keep his eyes closed and fought the urge to ruffle his sister’s hair when she finally left the car. His breathing came shallow and slow, and he’d made sure to let a little drool hang over his lip for authenticity. He always woke up with a wet pillow.

“I know you’re awake, Lance.” 

Fuck.

He thought about ignoring him. He could either pretend to be asleep or he could drop the whole charade, plug his headphones in and ignore his father in a more obvious way. He’d been in the middle of reaching for his phone when Nicholas continued:

“You’ve been making your mother worried, y’know.”

“Not on purpose.” Lance said, stiffly, still not looking up from the screen.

“Staying out late, and yelling at your sister? Not like the Lance we know.”

“And what, exactly, do you know?” The words came out stiffly, through gritted teeth.

“I know that you’ve been spending more and more time on your phone. And your computer. And I also know that your mother wants us to re-bond.”

The thought alone made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“… I want to get on like we used to, Lance. I want you to be my son again.”

“I stopped being your son the moment you turned your back on my mother.” 

The words came out in a cold, lethal calm. Even his dad seemed to stiffen under the weight of his tone, until he finally let out a shuddering breath, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. In the rear-view mirror, Lance could gleam the tired look in his father’s eyes. He hadn’t looked directly in them for some time. But he looked defeated. Remorseful, even. And Lance wasn’t sure if he believed any part of that self-pitying charade.

“… I’m not proud of what I’ve done.”

“What you’re doing.” Lance amended. “And if you cared at all, you’d stop now and tell her. If you ever cared, you’d have never cheated on her.”

The car slowed, turning into the lay-by. He thought about making a run for it, but he could see the child-lock icon lit up on the dash. And for a terrible moment, he felt like he was trapped in a cage with a lion. His father turned in his chair, and it took all of his power not to cave in under his father’s crushing stare.  
“… My relationship with your mother doesn’t change how I feel about my kids. Or my grandkids.” 

“… And what about your mother? Do you even care about her?”

Something flashed in his father’s eyes. There one second and gone the next. He didn’t want to believe it was anything other than irritation.

“She doesn’t know who I am.”

“She asks where you are when you’re not home. She looks for you when you leave the room.”

“Then she’ll forget me soon enough. Do you know what it’s like for your own mother to look at you and see a stranger?”

“No. But I guess that’s something me and mima have in common. We both see a stranger when we look at you.”

It happened so fast that Lance couldn’t stop it. One moment his was sat, pressed as far into his seat as possible to make room between him and the bastard. The next thing he knew, he was being pulled by the lapels until his face was inches away from the man who held him in a vice-like grip. He struggled, his father pulling him closer with every jolt.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again or I’ll-“ Then his eyes grew wide, in what seemed like horror and realisation. His eyes trailed down to where his hands clung to the lapels of his son’s coat, so close to his throat. With a gentle shove, Lance was pushed back into his seat, and his father was burying his face into his hands.

And Lance saw his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t see the cocky teen, brimming with exaggerated confidence that normally greeted him. Instead he saw a wide-eyed, fear stricken boy, face drained of colour and breathing coming out quick. His hands already raised to defend himself from a blow that would never land. His dad would never hit him. For all the hurtful words and venom he spat, he’d never crossed that boundary before. The hands that lead him and held him through his first fragile years had now become a source of fear, and Nicholas McClain had seen that.

“Lance…”

“Let me out of the car.” Lance was already grappling for the door handle. 

“Lance, stay, I… I didn’t mean to-“

“I said let me out.”

“We can talk-“

“I don’t want to talk!” The tears fell, burning his eyes and his cheeks. He’d never cried in front of his father. He’d never given him the satisfaction. “I don’t want to talk to you… Let me out!”

“Don’t… Don’t tell your mother.”

Lance barked out a laugh. “Is that all you care about?! About your mama finding out about your affair?! You never thought about what it’d do to your kids?!” 

“It has nothing to do with you. If you hadn’t… If you’d have just stayed out of it, then it would never have come between us! I love your mother, and I love you. But this is something you could never understand. And if you tell anybody, it’ll tear our family apart. And trust me, Lance.” A grim smile. “It won’t be me that they point the finger at if I’m not around. So, before you do anything stupid, just ask yourself this; Do you really think you could bare their resentment?”

‘My fault.’ The thought rang through him a thousand times. ‘My fault, my fault, my fault…’

Their faces, so lovely and smiling, seemed to pass through his mind in that moment. The warm, loving family who stood by each other through thick and thin. Bianca, laughing and smiling with her dad. His mother, dancing with their father in the kitchen. His niece running up to Mr McClain and demanding a piggy-back of pops. He couldn’t take that from them. He couldn’t… He couldn’t let go of that image.

“… You’re my son, and I love you. But this is something we need to keep between us. Because if you don’t… You’ll always regret breaking up your family…”

Nicholas turned, hitting a button on the steering wheel, and the audible click of the locks unlatching was all the dismissal that Lance needed. Tugging his coat tighter around him, he stepped out of the car and prepared for the long walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Have a very merry Christmas!


	11. Spy Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> I felt bad about not posting in so long that I decided to finish this chapter and post it before the New Year!  
> That being said... I have two upcoming exams that I'll be studying for over the next couple of weeks! (sobbing!) so I may not post until the end of January, just before I return to uni for my second semester!
> 
>  
> 
> The next chapter... Will include actual interaction between Lance and Keith! 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support and lovely comments! I wish you all a Happy New Year! <3

She’d woken in increments, not wanting to open her eyes just yet. It had always been like that. The moment she opened her eyes, the light would come in and she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until the world had gone dark again. But she listened. It wasn’t quiet. It never was. But the sounds were different than what she was used to. There was no busy hum of a house come to life; children laughing, pots and pans banging as they were brought down from the cupboards. The smell was different too. Not unpleasant, but different. It took a moment to work out what. Everything smelt clinical, artificial. Not like the flowery smell of her bed sheets or the mouth-watering scent of bacon she usually woke up to. Perhaps she was still dreaming? No. She fought off the confusion. No, she would have known if she was dreaming. Then again, she seemed to recall that the morning had always been confusing. Or at least it had been for some time now.

‘A cup of tea!’ She remembered with a start. Someone always woke her with a cup of tea in the morning, and almost always reassured her that she’d feel better once she’d drained the mug. Sleep now seemed unwise. Maybe if she woke again, she’d be even more dizzy. Cracking her eyes open, she let herself adjust to the harsh daylight bulbs, so unlike the soft glow of her bedside lamp. Perhaps she’d woken late. Perhaps Pietro had let her sleep in, and taken the boys off fishing. No, that wouldn’t be it. Her husband never forgot to wake her with a kiss, and Nicholas was far too small and too unsteady on his feet to take on the open water. Finally, her eyes adjusted, but nothing became clearer. The room was still unfamiliar, windowless and white. Her bed had railings on the side, like a gigantic crib, and in the corner were three deep cushioned chairs, a coffee table with stacks of dog-eared magazines and a plastic cup. On one of chairs had a coat strewn across it, like the owner had just thrown it to the side when they’d arrived.

Magdelena’s head pounded, and she raised a heavy hand to rub at her temples. But the hand wasn’t hers. It was attached to her, and it moved as and when she willed it to, but it wasn’t her own. The fingers were withered and thin, the gold band of her wedding ring too big for her, when it had once been impossible to pry off. The bones and veins were visible through her sun-spotted skin, and on her index finger was some kind of grey clamp, attached to a wire. She let out a cry of alarm, willing the rest of her body to move as she tried to rip the device from her hand and sit up, but larger, fuller hands gently clasped her own, dwarfing them and rubbing small circles until they were warm.

She didn’t try to pull away. Instead she followed the arm until she reached the young face of… Who was he? So familiar. They all looked so alike these days. His warm skin, the short brown hair and soft blue eyes, now underlined with shadows was so common among her family. But she was certain. She was certain that the man before her was…

“Nicholas?”

“No, mima…” His voice was unlike her son’s. His Spanish was fluent, but there was a lilt to his words, another accent intertwining with her mother tongue. English, she decided. She’d been careful to teach her family English at an early age. But this boy sounded like he’d spoken primarily English and used Spanish for his nearest and dearest. A name came to her then. Clear and sharp.

“Lance.”

His smile, though sad, was broad and brilliant. He squeezed her hand gently. 

“I’ll tell mama you’re awake.”

“No,” She gripped him. “No, not yet.” 

She fought hard to bring the face to her mind. This boy’s mother. She knew her. She knew her and loved her well. But why wouldn’t her name come easily?

“Let me wake up a little.”

He hesitated but nodded, sitting back in the visitor’s chair.

“… Do you know where you are?”

Oh, she wasn’t in the state for questions. But she knew this boy, her grandson. Or at least she knew that she knew him. He wouldn’t ask her unnecessary questions.

“… Am I… Am I at the doctors? I just nodded off.”

His lips drew into a thin line.

“Close. You’re at the hospital. Where mama works?”

Ah, that made sense. She often picked up her daughter-in-law from work to take her for lunch. 

“Do you remember how we got here?”

She thought hard. They probably drove, but she remembered the blue lights, the sound of sirens. A girl crying and holding her limp hand. A car accident. It had to be. Her husband was an erratic driver, and she recalled that it had been snowing. Panic rose to her throat.

“Pietro! Where’s… Where’s-“

The boy’s face was like looking at a statue. Unmoving and restrained.

“Abeulo’s not here, mima…”

“Where is he? Is he-“ 

It came to her, slowly, but the weight of it was crushing, nevertheless. She remembered the funeral, her son lifting one sixth of the weight of her husband’s coffin on his broad shoulders. It must have been years ago, because through her tears, she’d looked down at a young boy, who held her hand tightly, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone in her grief. This boy. He was taller now, broader and his hair was a mess. It must have been combed that day. Lance. How could she have not recognised him?

“… How are you feeling?”  
She rested back into her pillows. 

“I’m… Oh, I’m fine. My head hurts… Could you be a good boy and get me a drink?”

He’d begun pouring her a cup before she’d finished the sentence. A few sips later and her headache had already begun to subside.

“… Did I fall?” She patted her hair. No bumps. No bandages. Perhaps it was nothing serious.

“No… Do you remember what happened?”

“I…” She thought hard. Of course she didn’t remember, or else she wouldn’t have asked. But she bit back her frustration. The boy was concerned, and snapping wouldn’t do anything but add to his worries. “No… No, please tell me.”

He nodded, before glancing at the door.

“I should get mama, she’ll explain-“

“Lance…” He looked so helpless when he looked at her. Such an alien look on him. “Please… What’s so bad that you can’t tell me, huh?”

It was her turn to squeeze his hand as he swallowed.

“… You had a stroke. A… It was minor, but… Oh, mima…” 

His eyes glistened with tears, and she struggled to sit up, leaning stiffly over the railing as she wrapped her arms around him, letting his head rest on her shoulder as she’d done when he was a child. Only he’d never held her as hard as he did now, and his shoulders shook violently. 

“Shh, shh, querido…” She stroked his hair. He was so much bigger now. Stronger. “Querido… The doctors will take care of me. They’ll make it all better.”

When he pulled away, nose shiny, eyes red, she could have sworn she saw him move to say something. But the door opened before he could speak.

The man in the door was older than she’d remembered, but now that she saw them together, she had no idea how she’d confused the two. Nicholas was taller and broader than Lance, with hair that was starting to grey in a few strands and a stubble that indicated he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. Lance, on the other hand, was clean shaven, lean but still softer in appearance and personality. But whatever kindness that she’d grown to know disappeared from his eyes as he looked his father up and down. Disgust. Disgust and disappointment. And the same look of guilt she saw whenever she called him by her son’s name. 

“Nico,” She extended a hand to her son, waiting for him to come forward. He took her hand, just her fingers, and gave them a gentle squeeze before letting her arm fall back to the bed. 

“Lance,” His tone was cold. So unlike him to be nothing but loving towards his children. But not this boy. Not for a long time. Something like suspicion and wariness crossed between the two of them. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Not for another couple hours.”

“Then maybe,” Nicholas said stonily. “You should get into the habit of starting work a little earlier.”

The two stared at each other for a second, but Lance’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose, grabbing his bag and coat from the chair.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, trying find the clasp for the barriers of the bed. She always liked to stand when seeing someone off. Lance hurried back, placing a quick, gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“When can I go home?”

Again, he opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off.

“We’ll talk about that later.” Nicholas said in dismissal, as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. The gesture was mundane, and she saw the look of kindness and desperation in his face. But Lance only met it with a sneer and pulled away roughly as he sidestepped his father and left. As soon as the door closed, she gave her son a levelled look.

“Whatever you two are arguing about, you need to settle it. If I’m going to go, then I want to know that I’m leaving a family that’s able to look after each other. Not one that’ll be brawling as soon as I’m in the ground.”

Keith yawned as he stretched himself out on the sofa. The credits had just been rolling on the film they were watching, some kind of crime documentary he hadn’t been paying that much attention to, and he’d been ready to fall asleep. 

“Any film suggestions?” Lotor asked, flipping through Netflix. “Or TV shows? We could have a marathon.”

“No, I, um… I better get going. Shiro’ll be on my ass if I’m late again.”

“I didn’t know you had a curfew?”

“Only on a school night.” He swung his legs over the side of the couch, stretching again.

Shiro had been quick to lay down and enforce Keith’s school night curfew when he became his protective guardian. It’d taken quite some convincing to get the social worker to sign over custody, given Keith’s less than reputable record of truancy and running away. If a forty-year old couple with over fifteen years of foster experience couldn’t keep Keith on the straight and narrow, then what hope did an eighteen-year old have? Really, he supposed it was his own fault that his rehoming came with so many conditions: no arrests, no expulsions, no brawling or else he’d be back in to care pending a review. At least for a couple months. At eighteen he’d be considered a legal adult, competent enough to make his own decisions. It pissed him off, really, considering he’d been making most of his own decisions since he was eleven, and he would be much wiser in a few months than he is now. Still, at least he had Shiro.

“You could stay for dinner. I’ll walk you home.” 

Keith caught the edge in his voice, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

“I thought you liked being on your own?”

Lotor chuckled. “I do. But your company is far more tolerable than my former roommates.”

Keith contemplated the offer for a while, before settling back into the sofa and pulling out his phone. Only four names came under his frequently contacted list; Shiro, Pidge, Lotor and Lance. He’d changed the name from Shooter that morning, although Lance was the only listed contact in his other phone. Just so he didn’t accidentally call anyone else from the cheap cell. Shiro picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hey, I’m on my way to the supermarket. Are you still at your friends?” 

The hum of an engine in the background set him on edge. He hated the thought of Shiro driving, and the fact that he was on the phone while doing so was enough to push Keith’s hurried response faster.

“Text me when you get home. Yeah, I’m at Lotor’s. I’m going to be a little late, we were going to grab a bite to eat.”

There was a pause and Keith held his breath. He’d never known what waiting for a yes or no from a parent would be like until he’d met Shiro. He might have been young, with his charge being only four years younger than him, but he was no push over.

“You’re back at school tomorrow. And it’ll take you an hour to walk back. It’ll be dark.”

“Lotor said he’d walk with me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I was about to call you to come back early.”

Keith let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not a kid, Shiro.”

“Keith-“

“I’m not going to get mugged or-“

“Listen-“

“It’s just one night!”

“Keith.” 

He held his breath, waiting for the lecture. Normally he didn’t go against his brother, but this was getting ridiculous. Perhaps if he hadn’t spent most of the last week at Lotor’s, Shiro wouldn’t be trying to reign him in.

“If it was any other night, I’d say have fun, but tonight… Look, I need you to come home, get a shower and change into something formal.”

“Uh… Why?”

“Because Allura’s dad’s coming to dinner. I didn’t know until an hour ago.”

Defeated, he slumped back into the chair. The mayor of Altea was considered a kind man, who served the people and acted on the best interests of the city. But he’d heard stories, even from Allura, of how protective the man was of his daughter. No wonder Shiro was on edge, if Alfor was coming to see where his daughter would be living. His protectiveness had shot to an all-time high after Melenor, his late wife, passed away. 

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.” 

 

True to his word, Lotor had walked with Keith part way, leaving him on a corner by the main road which would take him almost all the way home in a straight line. It was further than Keith had expected, thinking the taller man might just see him to the edge of the campus before heading back to the apartment, but he’d seemed to want to talk forever about Alfor and Allura and whether Shiro was thinking of proposing. Keith had laughed, saying that he was surprised his brother hadn’t popped the question sooner, but truth be told, he had little to say about Alfor. Most of what he knew had been in the paper the weeks surrounding his re-election. The rest he’d heard from Shiro or Allura. Neither had anything bad to say about him… But he’d dare say that his brother was intimidated by him. And if Shiro was intimidated, then he probably had a reason to be.

When they’d arrived at the corner, Lotor had held him even tighter than usual, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him off the ground, until Keith was a head higher than him. He’d squirmed and laughed in surprise, but he hugged him back non the less, wrapping his arms around his neck to steady himself. 

“It’s not like I’m going away forever.”

“Ah, but the last time I thought you were staying home for the night, I didn’t see you for nearly two years.” 

A wave of guilt crashed into him and Keith felt compelled to hold him tighter. These past few days had been peaceful, compared to everything else going on. He was finally doing what a normal teenager would do by going out and wasting hours and hours with his friend. A friend that knew everything about his past and present and his hopes for the future.  
“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

Keith was set back on the ground, gently, but the hands on his waist only softened their grip instead of letting go. At a loss of what to do, he kept his own arms wrapped around Lotor’s shoulders. They’d always been comfortable around each other. And he’d been equally as touchy-feel-y with Lance even before the crush. 

“I should’ve called you. Or written you a letter.”

“You didn’t have a phone, so you couldn’t have had my number.” Lotor reasoned, removing one hand to play with a strand of Keith’s hair. “And you had more pressing things going on in your life than me.”

“Still…” Keith said. He’d always been too understanding for his own good. Maybe that’s what made him so forgiving where Keith was concerned.

“I better get going.”

The hand that was still busy twirling his hair slid to his chin, and before he could react, Lotor’s lips were on his cheek, right next to his mouth. He lingered for a second, while Keith was still paralysed, feeling the warmth from Lotor seep into him. But as soon as he had time to process what had happened, the body that had been flush against him pulled away.

“What was that for?” Keith spluttered, hoping his voice didn’t sound too much a like a squeak. 

“A thank you for keeping me company.”

“Yeah but-“

“I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary-“

“No, it’s not that! I just… It just surprised me.”

“Ah,” Lotor said with a small smile that had been known to make some people weak at the knees. “Well then, next time I kiss you, I’ll be sure to build you up to it.”

He laughed loudly as Keith’s cheeks grew hot and no doubt flared, but he turned on his heel and began walking away. Keith could only stare after him for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and hurrying down the path.

The snow crunched in rapid succession as he made steady progress through the ice which hadn’t yet melted despite three snowless days. His heart still hammered in his chest, but he knew better than to dwell on it. Lotor thrived off his ability to leave both men and women flustered mess and Keith was no exception. But he could still feel the gentle press of lips on his cheek, and for a moment he imagined what would have happened and what would it have been like if he’d turned his head just an inch and met the kiss with his own. He shook the thought from his head. He’d had a crush on Lotor way back when he was a kid hanging around with his neighbour, doing every outrageous and outlandish thing he could to get his attention. And Lotor had once reciprocated those feelings, but only when Keith had lost hope and moved on. He’d decided then that he’d never fall for his friends. At least not where love was concerned. And he already knew what the consequences would be if he strayed from that path again. 

And no, he still wasn’t over Lance, but it was hard to imagine a day where mere thought of Cuban wouldn’t make his heart swell with affection or how his stomach would flutter with thousands of little butterflies whenever he called his name. He wouldn’t bring that kind of baggage into any relationship, especially one with Lotor. 

He mentally shook himself again. He was overthinking it. A kiss on the cheek didn’t amount to anything. Allura kissed all her friends when she was saying goodbye. Sometimes even when saying hello. 

Trying to focus on something else, he glanced at all the shops as he hurried passed. Some were in the process of closing and others were just waiting for the clock to strike six. Nearly half an hour to go. A laundrette, a printing shop, a couple of deli’s and mini-markets, all the businesses you’d expect to find surrounding a campus. That was why, when Keith eventually came into view of the pizzeria, he wanted ram his head into the wall. Amongst everything, he’d forgotten that JoJo’s was situated between a Chinese restaurant and a bakery, right along the stretch of road he’d decided to take that evening. It was the fastest route, Lotor had told him, but he’d never thought ahead to what and who might be there. At this time of evening, Lance was probably out on delivery, if he was working at all, and judging by the queue that nearly stretched to the door it was going to be a busy night. Tugging his hood up over his ears, he tried to resist the urge to peer over the street to see if he could spot the Cuban. It wouldn’t take long to walk passed and even if Lance was there, he’d probably preoccupied with customers and orders to pay any kind of attention to him. And, Keith thought with some relief, it was probably a moot point anyway, seeing that Lance’s bike was probably still under repair, if Matt’s diagnostic evaluation was true. 

He passed silently, save for his footsteps, and didn’t relax until the smell of cooked dough and herbs cleared from his nostrils. He’d have to take another route next time. Or just brave it. But for now, he looked ahead, towards his home, as he continued his icy trek.

The more he thought about it, the more Lance wished he’d turned down his boss’s offer to loan him a bike. First off, his ass hurt from the small seat, made worse by the number of potholes surrounding the Pizzeria. Second, the gears were broken, meaning he was permanently stuck in first, having to pedal faster than he thought possible just to make it a few feet. Third, the brakes. Oh, the brakes. Why the bike hadn’t just been thrown into the dumpster or sold for parts, he had no idea, but the fact that the brakes were next to useless had nearly cost him his life on at least three deliveries. And when he’d been about to call it a night, using the death trap of a bicycle as an excuse to cut out early, the image of what was waiting for him at home made him want to sign up for several extra shifts, no pay and long distance.

He supposed he should be glad that his father had taken time out of his busy schedule to be with his wife and children when they needed his support the most. If he hadn’t, Lance would have been criticising him for that too. The only downside was that his dad was for sure at home right now and would most likely wait up for Lance. Ever since the day in the car, he’d been trying to catch his son alone. What for, he could only guess. Probably to grovel. Or perhaps he’d try and put the fear of God into his eldest son. Either way, Lance didn’t want to hear it, and was quite content to stay out on the streets until closing hours, and with the extra cash he’d been earning lately, he could afford a cab ride home.

He’d been just about to head into the shop after parking the bike around the corner at the only available bike stand (not that anyone would think about stealing that heap of trash) when he’d heard the crunch of footsteps hurrying up the road and such familiar laughter capable of making his heart melt that he turned to confirm his suspicions. But his joy was short-lived. Keith was there, across the road under the harsh glow of the streetlight, which lit up his bright smile even more as he cocked his head back. So happy. He’d never seen him so happy. And it broke his heart that he wasn’t the one holding him in his arms and making him laugh in that way. Lifting him up, holding him close, Lotor grinned that serpentine smile, as he placed the smaller man back on the ground, murmuring something that Lance couldn’t quite hear. He thought about calling out. If only to let them know he was there, just so it would stop for now.

But it happened quickly. One minute they were talking, arms around each other. The next, Lotor held Keith’s chin gently, as he closed the gap between them with a kiss. And Keith… In that second, Keith didn’t recoil. Lance could do nothing but stand and watch. Watch as the last shred of hope for anything with Keith curled up and died in his chest. His heart roared in his ears, but still, he couldn’t look away, even when Lotor laughed, and Keith, flustered, was walking away, with light steps that seemed to have an extra bounce to them. 

And in the moment before taller man turned to take his leave, Lance could have sworn, with haunting clarity, that Lotor looked him in the eyes and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Happy New Year!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Second chapter will be up soon! :)


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